Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke
by Shapby
Summary: AU - The headlines for today are: "Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke is a Pedophile!" But is this true? Unveil the truth behind the scandal of the decade!
1. Prologue: Issues

**Summary:** AU - Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke has been caught in act in attempt of pedophilia. How will he be able to maintain his political position as the issue presses on?

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, verbal profanities

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto. The idea of this fanfic was from a manga, entitled "Prime Minister Ozaki", or something like that. Sorry, I kinda forgot. And as a notice: characters in this fic are quite much out of character.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Prologue – Issues**

o

* * *

"So are you, by any way, going to explain this?" asked the Prime Minister's Head of Staff, Nara Shikamaru, thrusting a hot press newspaper onto the Prime Minister's desk.

It was a pretty tense situation at the PM's office that morning. After a whole week of celebrating the election turn-outs, there was serious national business to be done and that article just had to be printed today. The Prime Minister inched the paper closer to take a look at the front headlines, which came along with a photograph – a very clear one, to say – of him, in a sleek, black suit, wringing his arm around a young, teenage girl in a high school uniform. It wouldn't be much of an issue, if only it were not portrayed right at the entrance of an international-class hotel.

Uchiha Sasuke sighed as he put the paper back down on the desk. He rested his head on a hand, thinking about the journalist that certainly had the wildest imagination to call him, 'pedophilic' and summon up a story of him having relations with underage women. He pondered on how the issue would take effect on his political polls. Could it be possible that the parliament would put him in impeachment on the case? Heavens, please, no, he thought, he'd only been Prime Minister for less than two weeks now.

Why did this all have to happen now, when he finally could boast over his elder brother with his position?

Uchihas, for decades, have been living on law and politics. The family was the country's own version of the Kennedys, without the tragedy curse. Before he ran for PM, Sasuke was like a vermin that couldn't live up to the family tradition. Sasuke failed on his first attempt to enter university, while his elder brother succeeded to enroll in a world-wide known law school named Harward, or something like that. Some years later, his brother owned the world's most prestigious law firm, while Sasuke was crawling, ever so slowly, through the magic and mischief of the national political world. Finally, he reached the top, posing Prime Minister of the infamous nation. So would he let such cheap, untruthful gossip taint his political career after so long waiting for the moment to come?

Oh no, he would not.

Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke stood up from his revolving chair and handed the paper back to the Head of Staff Nara Shikamaru. "That can be explained," replied the Prime Minister; adding a smirk to his features, he continued, "but since such issue has developed into an interesting subject, why don't we play with it a bit?"

Nara Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. Whatever the PM was planning, it didn't sound good to him.

* * *

Hyuuga Hinata nearly choked on her breakfast the moment she opened the folds of the morning paper. Other people might not recognize the girl, for the face had been checkered, but she knew at once it was herself.

"Quite disappointing, isn't it?" her younger sister, Hanabi, chipped up, commenting on the article in the paper. "For once, I was thinking that this country would be led by a decent, young politician. But it turns out that he's been hitting on underage women. Such disgrace to the nation."

"What?" spat Hinata. "Is that what they say?" Her eyes frantically skimmed the page-long article.

Certainly they've got it wrong, thought Hinata.

Daughter of the well-known hotel kingdom, Hyuuga Hinata, shook her head in disapproval as she continued to read the article. She definitely was not a teenage prostitute, or whatever they mentioned she was. How dare they mess with the Hyuuga Hotel kingdom heiress?

For goodness' sake, she was at the hotel (which someday-in-the-future she would own) with the whole family. The family was holding a gathering, and since the family's business had huge effects on the nation's economy, they had decided to invite the Prime Minister. That particular evening, Hinata had extra errands to run at her school, so she had rushed from school straight to the gathering without bothering changing, for Hanabi had brought her evening gown earlier to the hotel. Lady Fate had decided that just as Hinata hurdled through the entrance, that Prime Minister would be on a private stroll on his way out. The picture was taken as the kind Prime Minister was helping her up after she stumbled in collision.

How in the world could they interpret it as her flirting with the Prime Minister?

Though Hinata was quite relieved that the press had not yet to mention her name specifically, she was sure they were bound to any time near. Especially, since they already wrote, 'one of the nation's most grossing company's heiress'. As if there was any other company in the country that could bring such income, thought Hinata, rolling her eyes.

"Funny isn't it, it's as if they're pointing at us, you know, 'company heiress'," said Hanabi, reading her sister's mind. If only you knew, replied Hinata, mentally. "Though I don't think it's a bad idea: going out with the PM. He's barely thirty, good-looking, intelligent, and most important, not married yet." Hanabi paused. "Hell, probably he's the youngest PM in the world… not to mention, a bachelor PM…"

"We'll be late for school, if we don't leave any minute now," said Hinata, abruptly, stashing the paper aside.

Hyuuga Hinata would definitely have this business settled immediately. Definitely.

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: this is my first shot on Naruto fanfics. Please review if you find it interesting. I will continue on the fic, only if I get plenty of positive reviews. Thank you for reading, anyways.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author status: **currently looking for beta-reader(s)

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, verbal profanities

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 1 - The Press Conference to Begin With**

o

* * *

"Mr. Prime Minister, how would you explain the pedophilia issue?"

"Mr. Prime Minister, is it true that you are having relations with an underage women?"

"Mr. Prime Minister, is it true that you are a pedophile?"

"Hell, no." That was what he wanted to say. But Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke knew better than to spat at the heated reporters surrounding him. Instead, he flashed a polite smile at a particular blonde-haired reporter who happened to try to feed him with her microphone at any terms, as he calmly surrendered to his warm, convenient limousine.

The reporters continued to attack with their violent questions, even as the Prime Minister's Personal Aide, Uzumaki Naruto, shut the limousine door behind him. "They never give up until you fall into the trap," he chuckled, giving the reporters a cheerful wave.

Sasuke glanced up to have a look at the vicious blonde-haired reporter. "What was her name again?" he asked to his spokesperson, Haruno Sakura, who happened to be sitting on the other side of the limo. Sasuke recognized the meticulous reporter from a press conference back at the headquarters; she was as over-ambitious as ever.

"Her?" Sakura asked pointing at the reporter. Sakura gave a disgusted look. "Yamanaka Ino, from Bogue fashion magazine, though I have no idea why she would be after your issues."

Sasuke folded his arms, with no further interest.

The limo, surrounded by quadroons of police guards, moved slowly through the chilly, autumn weather, heading towards the Office - the headquarters of the Prime Minister. Uchiha Sasuke gazed out the filtered windows as Naruto read out his schedule for today. "…which means, your agenda ends at around four, this afternoon, sir," Naruto concluded, closing the agenda book shut.

"No dinner meetings to attend?" asked Sasuke.

When Naruto assured the Prime Minister that there was nothing specific to do in the evening, Sasuk turned to his spokesperson and said, "Prepare a press conference at seven, and Naruto," he added, turning back to the aide, "I won't be available before that hour."

"What matter, sir?"

Sasuke casually tucked his deep-blue-colored tie into his suit. He fixed his eyes on the road ahead, muttering, "I've got problems to settle. That pedophilia issue's really getting on me."

* * *

Hyuuga Hinata rested her head on her desk. It was a noisy afternoon in class, after the homeroom teacher announced the literature teacher that was supposed to teach during the last period, happened to be ill. The students were to self-study, but as usual, they ended up chattering non-stop.

Hinata stared at her slim, brandished, 3G, double-camera, clam-shell cell phone. No new mail, she pondered, pressing on the mini buttons lazily.

"So boring," Hinata heard her desk mate, Tenten, sigh deeply. Tenten suddenly shot up with bright eyes. "Why don't we go to the mall?"

Hinata laid her head back on to the desk. "Don't you get tired of it? There's nothing new anyways."

"I don't know," replied Tenten. "I just like to look for things that are up-to-date." She squealed excitedly. "Oh, like those pair of boots I got a couple of days ago! I can't believe I was so lucky to get them on fifty-percent price, they were six hundred dollars each." Tenten let out a happy sigh. "It was so worth it."

Hinata struggled to hide the temptation of rolling her eyes. It was such a mistake for her father to make her go to a school packed with rich people (not that she wasn't rich herself - perhaps, she was the richest), even though it was the best prep school available in the country. To Hinata's horror, it was like MTV's Rich Girls reality show come true.

Hinata never liked such spoilt, glamorous life. Instead of attending a socialite party with a ball gown and a glass of wine (though she still had three years shame), Hinata would rather hold a calm and cozy tea ceremony with Hanabi, her sister, and Neji, her elder cousin.

And Hinata just hated being among a huge pack of people. It wasn't that she was an antisocial, but being in a crowded area made her feel anxious and apprehensive.

So, later that evening, when she found two long, black limousines, along with a horde of police motor bikes, perched right in front of the gate of the Hyuuga Residence, she decided to edge to her quiet, private quarters. It was so nice to live in such a big house; even if your sister was listening to System of a Down on maximum volume in her room, it would be around a hundred meters away from your room, so you wouldn't be hearing anything but bird chirps.

It was then that Hanabi came banging into Hinata's room with a psyched approach. "Guess who's here?" she asked, squealing excitedly. She began to poke at Hinata's ribs madly.

"Stop that," Hinata ordered her younger sister. Why is everyone in that happy-go-lucky attitude today? "Who?" she asked back, shortly.

Hanabi's squeals leveled one notch higher. "The Prime Minister!"

Hinata paled at the statement. Certainly, the Prime Minister did not come all the way to discuss about the article in the morning paper? Then again, thought Hinata, the PM might have came for some economical advises. But why bother come here himself? Wouldn't it be better to send the Minister of Economy, or hold a meeting at the Office? At that thought, Hinata grew even paler.

Her questions seemed to be answered the second the door opened, revealing a straight faced Hyuuga Neji.

There was always a strange atmosphere hanging around whenever Hinata and Neji were in the same room. Tense would not be the exact word to describe it. Neji, currently twenty-five, was the Executive Director of the Hyuuga Hotel Corporate. Neji was always envious of Hinata's position as the heir of the Hyuuga holdings, for he had devoted all of his twenty-five years (so far) to the glory of the Hyuuga family. It felt unfair that he was the one in sweat, while this - this _girl_ was the one who would get the blue ribbon prize. It was a good thing that Neji was extremely capable of not showing his feelings towards the Hyuuga heiress.

There was barely any color left on Hinata's already pale face, when he said in his deep, monotonous voice, "The Prime Minister looks forward to meet you. Now."

* * *

Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke sat still with both feet tucked under him. He fingered the rim of the terracotta cup that was filled with blazing hot green tea.

Waiting in the Hyuuga Residence felt abominable, even to someone that belonged to the Uchihas, like him. Perhaps, it was the aura of the house, which held intensity and greatness. The waiting room was a vast multi-purpose area, covered with plain, but high-quality tatami mats. Each sliding door was made from the best bamboo cuts and plastered with thin, yet strong washi paper. The papers were illustrated with various traditional drawings, like the one in the south side: a picture of a soaring crane, or the one in the far west: a beautiful cover of cherry-blossom petals. Staring at the extremely elevated ceilings made Sasuke feel inferior and he did not like that feeling at all.

Sasuke felt relieved when a maid announced the arrival of Hyuuga Hinata. He certainly did not feel that he could hold the tension any longer.

Hyuuga Hinata entered the room, still in her full school uniform: an indigo blue blazer on top of a light blue blouse with a red plaid skirt. Her black socks were pulled high, almost touching her knees, showing that she was a young girl of manner more than a girl of fashion. Her face was as pale as always, Uchiha Sasuke remembered, having to know the girl from socialite parties, back in his younger days. But her hair, Sasuke noted, had grown out a bit, as it fell exactly on her shoulders.

The Hyuuga heiress gave Sasuke a deep bow as she settled on the layered floor. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Prime Minister."

"And you, too, Miss Hyuuga," replied the PM, nodding his head in return. He then clasped his hands together, and said, impatiently, as if he had been longing to do so, "Since you're here, Miss Hyuuga, we should get going now."

"We?" The teenager tilted her head in question.

Sasuke nodded once more. "You and I, miss." He pushed his tea cup forwards with the tips of his fingers. "Forgive me for the short notice, but you and I will be going to the press room at the Office, right now."

* * *

"Haruno-san, about the issues on the new Prime Minister…"

Haruno Sakura held up a hand to the speaker. "Now, Temari, I am sure that the Prime Minister has his own way to explain those issues, but I am a hundred percent sure that he is _not _a pedophile."

Laughter rang in the press meeting room, that evening. The press was very eager – if not to say, extremely zealous – about the latest topic that surrounded the Office. Pencil carbons were scribbling madly against paper fiber; cameras were flashing their blitz wildly. Never in Haruno Sakura's public relations' life had she faced such enthusiasm. Her approach was calm, but she could feel her heart beating madly against her ribcage. It must be the adrenaline, she thought, as she gave a short reply to one of the reporters.

A man behind the curtains of the podium signaled the spokesperson. She nodded. She turned to the press and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, the Prime Minister."

The people in the press conference room stood up in unison, causing several chairs to screech against the marble floor. Blitzes flashed wildly once more as the man of honor stepped on to the podium. He gave a nod to Haruno, who bowed in return and retreated to the back of the stage. The Prime Minister then took a few seconds to adjust the microphone to his height and settled comfortably behind the podium. He, with a small smile and a hand gesture, said, "Thank you. Please, sit down."

The audience sat in obedience.

"I'm sure most of you are impatient to ask question about certain issues that have been running around for a day or two, now, but do allow me to explain some things first. If, after I am done with my statement, there are some things to be questioned about, you are free to ask." The PM paused for a second, before continuing.

"There are always idiosyncratic issues that appear at the beginning of one's period to govern. Some were catastrophic issues, such as the nine-one-one, or the tsunami. Others were global issues, perhaps the world economic recess, in example. I feel quite lucky that mine is only an untruthful rumor about me, having abnormal sexual relationships."

The audience roared with laughter.

"I do believe that you, ladies and gentlemen, already have a strong hint of whom the young lady in the troubled picture is. These wrong issues about me have become a …dishonor towards her and her family. Therefore, allow me to get these issues straight, and let her family name not be tainted.

"I do not deny having to know this lady and having to meet her at Hyuuga Hotel." Hands shot up instantly. "Please, hold the questions till I am done." The hands were pulled back down. "Thank you, I appreciate that." The Prime Minister resumed. "I do not deny those facts. But I do object the report that said I am having illegal relations with this lady. The only relation that I have with this lovely young lady is one hundred percent legal by law and norm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to announce that Hyuuga Hinata and I are currently engaged."

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: I'm truly touched by the reviews I got. I hope everyone keeps reading and reviewing this humble writing of mine. Thank you, thank you very much. O yeah, I'll only continue if I get enough positive reviews. -grin- thank you, once more.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's status:** still seeking for betas. Anyway, just for a note, I'll be updating every two weeks, if I'm lucky. If not, I'll try at least once a month. I know that's long, but college is really taking all my time.

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 2 - Analyze It**

o

* * *

"He's a good guy, you know."

Hyuuga Hinata turned to the blonde gentleman, who was standing beside her. Not knowing what to say really, she gave the man a half-nod.

"Though sometimes, he does unexpected things." The man grinned.

Hinata raised an eyebrow in uncertainty. She nodded once more, though she was starting to really not understand things.

"You know, when we were on campaign, we went to this orphanage. There were a whole lot of kids, and they were loud. I mean, really loud, extremely loud, and super hyperactive. We, me and Sakura - she's the spokesperson over there - ," he pointed to the podium beyond the thick, velvet curtains, "were kinda confused. I mean, how were we supposed to handle these kids, while we were supposed to build a good image to people watching around us? But guess what the PM did?" Hinata tilted her head in question. "He took off his tie and suit, and grabbed a full water-gun, and began to fire it at the kids. They had a water fight for one whole hour. Man, it was chaotic. But it stole the people's heart, too, you know. It kinda showed them that he had a soft side for children."

Hinata nodded.

The man then blushed. "I must have been talking too much."

"No, not at all. That was a nice story, really," said Hinata. She smiled politely at the man.

"You think so?" The man brightened up. Then he said, "Hey, that's the first time you actually talked to any of us!"

This time, Hinata blushed. True, during the whole trip from the Hyuuga Residence to the Office, she did not even let a single syllable slip from her lips. She had been so nervous about having to face reporters that her upper lip and bottom lip felt as if they were glued together. She also had barely dared to glance at anybody, causing her to bump into a lot of people on the way down from the limousine to the 'back stage' of the press conference room. Now, she was only several meters apart from the monstrous pack, only separated by a few millimeters of velvet cloth. It was a good thing to have …this particular blond guy talking along as a distraction. Listening to him made her forget about her phobia towards the crowd on the other side of the curtains.

The only problem is that she forgot what his name was, too.

Silence fell between the two once more. Hinata could hear a wave of voices come from behind the drapery. Then she heard the Prime Minister say, "Please, hold the questions till I am done." He said it with great patience and such politeness that made others obey immediately. It made Hinata rather astonished for a moment.

"See? I told you, he's good at explaining things," said the blond man.

Hinata nodded in agreement as she listened to the man who was speaking to the audience beyond the folds of cloth: "I do not deny those facts. But I do object the report that said I am having illegal relations with this lady. The only relation that I have with this lovely young lady is one hundred percent legal by law and norm."

Now, where was that leading to? Hinata's eyebrows twitched. Without Hinata notice, a massive sweat drop began to form on the forehead of the spiky blonde's nervously grinning face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to announce that..."

The man beside Hinata was now gulping furiously.

"...Hyuuga Hinata and I are currently engaged."

* * *

If one was to enter the press area at that second, perhaps it would be able to hear crickets crick clearly at fifty meters of radius. Shock had even affected the reporters for no one was pressing a camera button, or raising a hand in question. Even the staff back stage had frozen in place, including the Head of Staff and the Personal Aide.

After exactly ten seconds of total stillness, the peace was broken by Hinata's cry of fury, "WHAT!"

As on cue, cameras were blazing insanely, mouths were throwing questions violently, people swiftly moving (most were heading to a television nearby that broadcasted the press conference), and the Head of Staff, Nara Sikamaru, sighing deeply. He muttered, "Oh, boy."

The spokeswoman, Haruno Sakura, muttered silently behind her dazzling smile, "Oh, boy."

The Personal Aide, Uzumaki Naruto, muttered, glancing fretfully at the young Hyuuga beside him, "Oh, boy."

Hinata on the other did not take the words easily. She instantly rushed to the opening that led to the other side of the deep indigo curtains. "What in the world did that mean!" she demanded in a yell at the PM, who was standing in the middle of a wooden stage. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. "You and I are definitely not -!"

Hinata's scolding faded as hundred watt lights splashed onto her crossed face. She had to raise a hand to block the blitzes of the reporters' cameras. For the first time, she realized where she exactly was standing: right in front of hundreds of men and women in suits with straps hanging around their necks, labeled 'PRESS'. Hinata paled, forgetting about what she was about to say to the PM, and began to walk towards the exit. She certainly would not stand being in front of so many people for more than a minute. She would rather vaporize, or maybe disappear and become invisible, than have to stay where she was.

But Uchiha Sasuke had different thoughts going in his mind, of course. The moment Hinata began to turn around, he smirked. He caught her shoulder and pulled the young lady towards him, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you my fiancé, Hyuuga Hinata."

At that exact moment, it was as if the world began to crash down on Hyuuga Hinata.

* * *

"I congratulate you for becoming the first PM to create such pandemonium at the Office," Nara Shikamaru stated, sarcastically at Uchiha Sasuke. Both of them were in the PM quarters, after the frenzied press conference.

Sasuke grinned. He slowly tugged his tie off and undid the top button. He stretched out on a magenta red, leather sofa, swirling the clear, ruby-colored liquid in his wine glass with the slightest movement of his left wrist. "You would have to admit it was a good conference," replied Sasuke, making a toast gesture at the Head of Staff.

"Cheh," Shikamaru smirked.

"Analyze it," Sasuke said, out loud. He took a small sip of the wine. "What would have happened if I denied the whole issue thoroughly? The press would say that I was lying, and trying to hide the truth. That would ruin my image to the public. The people would not like having a PM that lied to them. But what if I agreed the issue? That would be even more horrible. The parliament would as well impeach me." Sasuke chuckled. "So, the best solution is to deny the issue, but make it seem reasonable, which in this case is to add a sensible relationship between Miss Hyuuga and I.

"The Hyuugas have been neutral in political standings, so if I have a relationship with one, it might help the polls for the party, wouldn't it?" Sasuke made a shooting sign with his right hand at Shikamaru.

"You're thinking one-sided, aren't you?" asked Shikamaru, blunted. He poured some wine for himself. "Speaking of which, has Miss Hyuuga regain her conscious?"

Sasuke looked up from his glass, shrugging. "No idea. I had Naruto to look after her."

* * *

White.

Hinata blinked. The ceiling above her was plain white. She slowly turned her head to the right, and saw a small table with a vase of a sole rose on it. Then she turned her head to the left to see a man with blond hair reading a magazine in his hands. Then she stared back at the ceiling, blinking once more. Where was she?

Then it clicked. She was probably at a hospital.

She remembered standing in front of a mass of people with cameras and tape recorders and microphones. She remembered the PM pulling her to the podium. She remembered blinding lights flashing, and then total blackout.

"Oh, you're awake?" asked a voice, interrupting Hinata's thoughts.

Hinata turned to the blond man who asked the question. She slowly began to rise from the bed she was laying in, asking, "What happened?"

The man held up a hand, telling Hinata to stay in bed. He answered, "You fainted at the press conference," chuckling. Hinata blushed. "You're at the Office's hospitality ward now," he continued. "Wait here, I'll get the doctor to check on you."

Hinata was left alone. Being alone, she stared emptily to the front for several minutes, before digging into her blazer's pocket. She took out her cell phone and madly pressed the buttons necessary to reach her home's phone. She held up the ear piece.

She waited three ring back tones before she heard Hanabi's voice on the other end. "Hyuuga residence, can I help you?"

"Hanabi!" called Hinata. She was relieved to hear her sister's voice for no reason exactly. It just felt good to speak with some one you actually knew, after being stuck with stranger for several hours.

But her relief vanished once her sister cracked into laughter. "Oh my GOD! You fainted on TV! It was so hilarious!" She could hear Hanabi cry in laughter.

"You watched it?" asked Hinata, frantically.

Hanabi was now at the verge of tears of mirth. "Like, duh! Everyone was watching! Father, Neji-niisan, the maids… it was on the seven o'clock news, anyways; we always watch that at dinner, silly."

"I'm your older sister; don't go calling me 'silly'," Hinata protested. She sighed, shortly afterwards. "Get Father on the line, will you? I need to talk to him."

Hanabi told Hinata to wait, as she called for their father. Hinata gave her forehead a gentle massage with her fingers whilst waiting. Great, she thought, life was totally ruined now. How would she ever be able to walk with her head straight again? Not that she normally would hold it straight…

"Hinata?" Hinata heard her father's deep, comforting voice on the other end.

"Father!" Hinata nearly cried out. She gripped on to her cell phone tighter. She was going to explain everything straight and thoroughly, making sure that her father could throw a tantrum at the damn Prime Minister.

Before she could say a single word, her father said, "Oh yes, Hinata, I forgot to tell you earlier. Before you got home, the Prime Minister and I had a chat. He said he would like to propose to you, and betroth you, but since you weren't home, I just agreed. You don't mind, do you? I think your engagement will bring good atmosphere to the family business, don't you think so?"

_You have got to be kidding._

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: sorry for the hasty ending. I just felt bad for not updating for so long, so I made this chapter rather hurriedly. Please continue reading and reviewing. Thank you all.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's status:** sincerely dedicating this certain chapter of this fic to the victims of the 6.2 earthquake that hit Yogyakarta, Indonesia, on the 27th of May, 2006. I've been to the city several times on vacation, and it has always been a wonderful place to go to. May God bless us all. Amin.

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, verbal profanities

**Standard disclaimer **applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 3 - Deciding Decisions**

o

* * *

"Mr. Prime Minister, sir?"

Uchiha Sasuke looked up from the randomly scattered papers on his desk to Uzumaki Naruto, who was standing at the entrance of his office. The PA seemed to be in his morning mess, with his hair untidy and eyes drowsy, but was awake enough to send a morning message to the PM. Sasuke stood up and walked around his desk, "Come on in, Naruto. What do have for this morning?"

"A call on line one, sir," said Naruto, pointing to the grayish silver phone that was placed on the PM's desk.

The PM nodded, and reached out for the mouth piece. But before taking it, he asked, "Who's it from?"

Naruto frowned slightly. "It's from…," Naruto paused, and only continued when he saw Sasuke raising an eyebrow, "your brother, sir." Naruto stood still as a statue, anticipating the prime minister's reaction to his words.

Sasuke inhaled an amount of oxygen, before sighing deeply. He retreated from the telephone, and returned to sit on the rotating cushion behind his desk. "Just say I'm busy, will you?" said Sasuke to Naruto. "I don't have time to hear his non-sense." Sasuke put on his clear-framed spectacles, lifted a pen, and resumed to busy himself with his paperwork.

"But he says it is urgent, sir," said Naruto, persisting, standing in place.

Sasuke tapped the desk with the blunt end of his pen, looking pensive. Should he or should he not receive the telephone call? That dear brother of his would probably start blabbing about the success of his firm, or perhaps tell him off to quit politics, or maybe invite (rather force) him to some socialite party (as if he had the time). All in all, it would just be another waste of time to listen to his brother's monarchy speech.

Sasuke was just about to ignore the call, when he caught Naruto's look straight in the eye. It wasn't a pleasant one.

"Fine!" Sasuke exclaimed, submitting to the devilish look on his inferior's visage. "I'll answer it!" He reached for the mouth piece and lifted it. Before pressing button 1, he turned to Naruto and hissed, "Satisfied?"

Naruto grinned and excused himself from the office room. The PA knew best to withdraw from the room whenever the PM was on the phone with his brother. He definitely did not want to be victim of the call's aftermath.

Sasuke snapped off his glasses and placed them down on the desk, as he said into the mouth piece, "Hello?"

There was a short silence due to satellite delay on long-distance phone calls. Then Sasuke heard the familiar voice that he loathed ever since he was little; that certain voice with that sinister touch to its accent. "Why, hello, otouto. Or should I call you 'Mister Prime Minister', sir?"

"What do you want, Itachi?" asked Sasuke, straightforward. Just by listening to his brother's voice made him have a headache. Sasuke gave a light massage to his temple.

"Oh? Calling me by name now, are you, otouto? My, your manners have disappeared ever since you became prime minister, hasn't it?" the man on the other end laughed. "Even your manners towards young, intelligent ladies, otouto. What have you become of?"

Sasuke straightened his back. "What do you mean?"

"Poor Miss Hyuuga, of course," replied Itachi with a light chuckle. "I bet that she's just another victim of your immature, egoistic, and insensitive stubbornness, isn't she? What did you do this time? Make a one-sided business deal with her father, perhaps?"

_Almost correct. _"It has nothing to do with you," replied Sasuke, curtly. He thought of slamming the mouth piece down; it was making him sick.

"Then why in the world would I have a feeling that it does have something to do with me, otouto?" The tone of his voice made a chilly shiver run down Sasuke's spine. "I think, otouto, that you are just trying to be different from me, aren't you, the rebellious one? Just because I'm thirty-five, single, and happy, you're planning to be the total opposite of me. If I were thirty-five, married, and happy, I guess you would rather live single throughout your whole life, wouldn't you, _otouto_?"

Sasuke contemplated his brother's words for a few seconds. It was true that he was jealous of his brother's success, and the way he achieved it, but Sasuke did not want to take the same filthy road of triumph that his brother took. He wanted to be dissimilar, because he believed that every person had its own way of living. "You're wrong." Only his pride would not admit it. He could not divulge that his brother was right all the way. "My matters with Miss Hyuuga have nothing to do with you.

"We both care for each other, and we are in a happy engagement. I find Miss Hyuuga a very bright, lovable, and joyous young lady, mind you." It sounded rather desperate, even to his own ears, but it couldn't be helped since it was a big fat lie anyways.

"Oh? Is that so?" Sasuke could even hear his brother's eyebrows rise. "How interesting it would be for someone as cold as you to fall in love with such a pitiable girl like her. Perhaps, you do have sexual interests towards children underage. Why, wouldn't it be fascinating to see the blissful relationship the two of you have built?"

Sasuke nearly choked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you see, I was going to tell you that I'll be in the country for about a week or so, during the end of this month. A client was requesting for some meetings, as usual," explained the elder brother. "But now it seems that my trip will be more exciting than I thought it was going to be. I am expecting every detail explicated by the time I get there, otouto. I am dying to get to know this wonderful Hyuuga that you have fallen for, am I not, otouto? Well then, till I get there…"

The connection broke, and all Sasuke could hear was now the dull tones of the telephone.

_Otouto, otouto._ How annoying it was to be called like a toddler. Sasuke scratched his head furiously, even though it was not itchy at all. Victory was never his when it came to his brother. Banging his fist against the teak wood desk, Sasuke felt that this was just another sad episode of defeat.

* * *

This is funny, thought Hinata, entering the classroom that morning. Her classmates were chattering as usual; boys were doing stupid, old jokes (bubble gum throwing were a decade ago), while the girls were busy with their Prada bags and MAC makeup. Homeroom teachers were buzzing around, trying to take everyone's attention (though hopelessly failing in the end). Everything was so… normal. It was as if nothing had happened last night.

Hinata felt an excited tap on shoulder. Her heartbeat quickened when she saw Tenten's mischievous smile behind her. _Oh no…_

"Why didn't you tell me?" squealed Tenten.

Hinata tried her best to plaster an innocent look on her face. "Tell you what?"

Tenten grinned wider.

Hinata raised an eyebrow in question.

"That you failed the biology exam!" exclaimed Tenten, happily, leading Hinata to their desk. "You should have told me earlier! I was so desperate when damn Iruka told me that I didn't pass. But then he said you didn't pass, too, so we both have to take remedial tests! I was so relieved to know that at least some one in the class didn't pass as well!"

Hinata furrowed her eyebrows. "Just that?"

"What do you mean, 'just that?'?" asked Tenten, pulling out lip gloss from her khaki Louis Vuitton bag. She smeared the shine on while squinting into her pocket mirror.

"Did you happen to watch the seven o'clock news last night?" asked Hinata, hesitatively. She tried to sound as casual as possible.

"What?" Tenten spat, giving Hinata an incredulous glare. "The seven o'clock news? Hello-o, Hinata… have you gone mad? Like, who in the world watches the news at seven o'clock? There's Pop Jam at seven last night anyways, so why would I be watching _the news_?" Right at that moment Tenten returned the lip gloss tube to her bag, and brightened up. "Oh, by the way, did you watch Pop Jam on NHK? I bet you didn't. Do you know Tachibana Keita, that hot dude from that vocal group? Yeah, well, last night, he was singing that song…"

Hinata stared at her desk mate, in disbelief. She was relieved alright, but still was amazed that this particular friend of hers had not even sniffed the rumors on the event last night. Feeling grateful to Fate, Hinata, for once, decided to surrender to her desk mate's eternally cheerful chatters, and joined the conversation.

* * *

Sasuke had his head between both hands, trying to keep all the noise around him out of mind. Three days passed since the dreadful phone call from his brother, four days since the chaotic press conference, and the end of the month was coming even closer, which meant it was almost time to write government reports. It was almost time for his brother to come, too. Sasuke desperately dropped his head onto the desk.

"Sir? Are you okay?" a decipherable voice startled him.

Sasuke lifted his head in recognition. "Yes, I'm fine, Shikamaru. What is it?" Sasuke sat up lazily, moping over a pen stand at the corner of his desk.

"I've called on you five times, but you didn't reply. I was worried you bumped your head on something and passed out," answered Shikamaru, dully. Sasuke glared at his Head of Staff. "Just kidding, sir," Shikamaru added quickly. "The President of the Asia Pacific Union will be arriving in half an hour. We should be getting ready for protocol, sir."

Sasuke stood up and walked over to Head of Staff, putting on his suit that was placed carelessly on the sofa. "What's the President of the Asia Pacific Union doing here now? I thought the summit was supposed to be next week." Sasuke ran his fingers through his long, raven fringes.

"It is, but the president wanted to get used to the weather here first. He has allergies to dry weather, you see," explained Shikamaru, opening the exit door for the Prime Minister.

"Allergies…," muttered Sasuke, taking the lead towards the hallways. "Old people are always an annoyance…" Then something caught him. He turned to Shikamaru abruptly and asked, "What did you say again?"

"What? 'He has allergies to dry weather'?" replied Shikamaru, puzzled.

Sasuke shook his head furiously. "No, before that…"

Shikamaru furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, trying to recall what he said seconds beforehand. "'It is, but the president wanted to get used to the weather here first.' Was it that?"

"…'wanted to get used to'…," the Prime Minister mumbled softly to his self. His eyes slowly widened. A clear glint flashed through his irises. He clapped his hands together triumphantly. "Exactly!" Sasuke clamped both hands on to Shikamaru's shoulders, delightfully. "Do you know that you're a true genius?"

Shikamaru blinked once. "Yes, sir, I have been aware of that ever since I enrolled undergraduate school with a cum laude status."

Sasuke paused for a second, before grinning once more. "Well, you really deserved that one."

Shikamaru, though not fully understanding what the PM was thinking of, replied, "Thank you, sir," with a curt bow.

* * *

Though it truly was a relief that barely anyone at school paid attention to political news, it was dearly annoying to Hinata to face the fact her father actually sold her to a governing politician for the sake of family business. Hinata was always aware that her father was an ambitious businessman, but she never even dared to think that he would do such thing. Perhaps, she should have known better. But even so, what had been done had been done; and Hinata's way of handling it was to keep silent.

Ever since she returned from the press Conference, she barely said a word to anyone at the Hyuuga Residence. Though she managed to keep herself quite composed at school, at home she would act cold. After school, she would go straight to her room and keep quiet there. She would only come out during, meals, which she attended silently as well. Hinata didn't react to Hanabi's blabbing, something that she usually would throw tomatoes at.

The man of the house finally decided to call Hinata to audience after four days of her peculiar attitude. Perhaps, Hyuuga Hiashi did hold guilt against his daughter after all.

But what Hinata got was a speech of, "A Hyuuga must act properly as a Hyuuga, and socialize well with his or her surroundings." Hinata sat with her feet tucked under her, and her back straight for three long hours, fully listening to her father's words. Or was she? With those milky white eyes of her, no one could guess.

"Your manner lately these days are intolerable and I hope to see improvement in the upcoming days. Hinata, no matter what you are facing, you are a Hyuuga. Hyuugas do not dwell in their fate."

Was that a snort Hiashi heard? How impolite.

"And be careful with that approach of yours."

With her dull and spiritless eyes, Hinata gave her father a dark look. "Is this what they call fate?" she asked with a soft, but inevitably sarcastic tone. "Then I wonder, Father, when will I be able to decide my own fate?" Hinata said it with bitter tendency, clearly stating the irony that lay beyond her words.

Before Hiashi could find any vocabulary that fit to reply, Hinata gave a curt bow to her father and retreated from the room.

Hiashi sighed. Okay, so he was wrong from the beginning, but, thought Hiashi as he took a deep sip from his teacup, he never knew that raising teenage girls alone was this hard.

* * *

"You know, if you got a problem going on, you can always tell me. I'd be glad to help," said Tenten, suddenly out of the blue.

It was the next day, and everyone was already gathering their things to go home. Hinata was placing her writing stencils into her pencil case when Tenten said those so un-Tenten-like words.

Hinata gave her desk mate a small laugh. "And since when did you decide to become a psychologist?"

Tenten laughed along. "Nah, it's just… you seem different. I mean, not that it's bad or anything, but you're usually calm, and now you're like…" Tenten made an insane gesture with her hands, "loud and cheerful and well… not you."

Hinata sat still for a brief moment, recalling her past actions. "Really? I didn't realize that." Hinata hid a sigh. Maybe she was trying to hard to cover things up. "It's just the change of the season really. Isn't it almost winter?" Hinata hoped she didn't sound too desperate.

"Really?" replied Tenten, tilting her head sideways. She seemed to be contemplating on something before she bolted up, brightly. "Did you see Chanel's new collection for the upcoming season? Oh, and for the Haute Couture next year? It turns out that the color they used for winter is…"

Well, that completely proved to Hinata that Tenten was one of a kind. Tenten was happily talking about leather ankle-length boots by the time they reached the school's front gate. Hinata was about to ask Tenten a prank question on whether she knew how leather was actually made or not, when her eye spotted a sleek black limousine with a small flag perched on its front parked at the entrance.

It was definitely not a Hyuuga limo.

The fact unfold as Hinata saw a certain man in a deep blue suit emerge from the limo along with a huge pack of other men dressed in black. Hinata tried to hide herself behind Tenten shadows, but poorly failed. The man in indigo called out, extremely loud, "Hinata-chan!"

_Chan?_

Hinata cringed hard behind a puzzled Tenten. The girl in double buns turned around, revealing Hinata's figure, asking, "Who's that?"

The man, who now happened to be in audio radius, had a familiar smirk on his face. He answered the question for Hinata with his hands tucked into his pockets, "Hinata-chan's fiancé, Uchiha Sasuke."

* * *

It was a convenient meeting that only lasted less than half an hour, but the aftermath of the meeting caused Hinata to drown in deep thoughts. Even as she changed into her night gown and approached her bed by eleven o'clock that evening, the words that she heard earlier were still resonating clearly through her mind.

"_My brother will be in town for a week by the end of this month. He …believes that you and I are in a sincere relationship, and he …well, will be inspecting on it."_

_Hinata, sitting on a sofa of light ivory velvet, kept her face straight as she asked, "What would that be to my concern?"_

"_I understand that the arrangements of our engagement have been rather hasty, but I do hope that you and I could at least hold a showdown to my brother. Though I do not know anything about you, and you do not know anything about me, I'm sure that we could at least be civil for one night during a ballroom dinner."_

"_Well, you've stated it perfectly there, sir, that I do not know anything about you, so how would it be possible to fake that you and I are in some romantic relationship? You are talking non-sense."_

_The Prime Minister took a deep breath. "Therefore," he said, making a small gesture with his hand, "I would like you to stay at my official residence for the upcoming weeks, until the dining night is held."_

"_Stay?"_

"'_Stay', as in 'live'. You and I would get the opportunity to get to know each other enough to last the dinner. After the dinner, I give you full authority to our engagement. Call it off, if you find it better that way."_

_Hinata stood up. "First, my father, and now, you. It seems like everyone around me is deciding everything for me. I'm not even clear with being engaged with you, sir, and now, you force me to move to your place. This is just too much for me."_

"_Hence, I am giving you an option, whether you take it or not. It's fully up to you, Miss Hyuuga." Sasuke leaned his back on to the wallpaper-covered partition. "I do not want to become someone who dictates others, because I happen to know someone who lives his life that way, and growing up to look up to him, I know how it feels, Miss Hyuuga, to live without being able to decide your own future." Sasuke looked at Hinata with his raven eyes, and said, "If you, Miss Hyuuga, accept my offer, then I would be able to prove yet once more to that person that a man exists through his own decisions, not by other people's judgment."_

Hinata rolled over in her bed, pulling the covers closer. Her eyes scanned around her dimmed room, not really focusing on anything. "…exists through his own decisions…," she mumbled, aloud, to no one in particular, "…not by other people's judgment…"

_Hyuugas do not dwell in their fate._

No, they do not, Father, thought Hinata. She slowly pushed the comforter aside, and got up from bed. She reached out for the light switch and turned on the center lamp. She walked over to her built-in closet and took out an old duffel bag that had L and V emblems on it. Gradually, Hinata began to pick out certain garments, including her uniform, casual outfits, and evening wears.

There was some packing to be done.

* * *

"Dinner with the parliament members will be held at seven, sir."

Uchiha Sasuke nodded at his PA, as he gathered the signed papers on his desk. After two days lack of sleep (well, he managed to squeeze in a 15-minute nap this afternoon), Sasuke finally finished arranging the government report for the first month of his reign. Sasuke let out a stifled yawn, before finally clicking on the lock of his briefcase.

A head poked through a narrow opening at the door, calling out, "Sir?"

Sasuke immediately nodded and replied without looking, "Yeah, I know, at seven."

"No, sir, it's not about the dinner," said the head, which belonged to Haruno Sakura. "There's a young lady waiting for you at the Circle Room."

"A young lady? Waiting for me?" asked Sasuke in assurance. He was kinda sure that he didn't have such meeting scheduled today. Perhaps, Haruno made a mistake.

But she didn't. "Yes, sir, for you."

Sasuke furrowed his eyebrows. He made his way to the Circle Room with his briefcase in his hand. Whoever this lady was, thought Sasuke, she better be quick. He was in no intention of being late to the parliament dinner. (If he was, they could easily take the PM title away from him for some stupid reason.)

But when Sasuke caught a glimpse of a blue high school uniform and high knees socks, he calmed down and a casual smirk appeared on his face. He tucked his free hand into his slack pocket and walked leisurely to the lady. "My, Miss Hyuuga, what a surprise."

Hyuuga Hinata turned to the advancing man. She nudged her head towards the duffel bag that lied at her feet. "I take the offer. I'll be moving in."

This time, Sasuke gave the teenager a full smile. "I knew you would."

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: yes! This chapter exceeded 3000 words! I hope you all enjoyed it. Please review, onegaishimasu. Arigatou, everyone!


	5. Chapter 4

**Pre-note:** I have, apparently, abandoned this fic for more than a year now. –laughs nervously- if I were to give reasons, it would be that cliché "I've got real life going on", so I might as well not say so. (But I just did!) But! Since I've got this chapter done (finally), I hope my faithful readers would read and kindly review, since I've been feeling desperate lately. Oh, and, thanks to my beta, Audriel, for allowing me to barge her at any hour. (Her own SasuHina, "What are We?" will be updated very soon, according to her highness.)

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, verbal profanities

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 5 - More than Personal Affairs**

o

* * *

"—and this will be your room."

The assistant opened a door that led to a vast, but empty room with wooden tiles and traditional sliding doors. Hinata nodded at the spiky blond assistant, showing she understood that most parts of the prime minister's residence were built with a traditional tinge and that she would have to cope with sleeping on a futon and perhaps drinking green tea every morning. (Not that she would mind anyway, being a green tea addict herself.)

It only occurred to Hinata that the prime minister's residence and his office were separated—completely two different buildings in two different complexes—a couple hours ago when the assistant gave her a brief tour around the area in a sleek black limousine. The slanted-eye assistant also explained that the traditional atmosphere surrounding the residence was by special request of Uchiha Sasuke himself. He fancied the simplicity of it, explained the assistant further.

_Well, that would make the two of us_, thought Hinata then. She, too, preferred the calmness of Zen.

"Mr. Prime Minister will not be back until around past midnight, I'm afraid, so you might as well take a rest, ma'am," said the assistant, rearing back towards the exit.

"Thank you," replied Hinata, short but politely.

"Good night, ma'am."

"Good night to you, too."

The assistant left with a soft click at the door, and then Hinata was all alone. She dragged her duffel bag closer to the center of the room and pulled out some clothes to change into. For a second, she wondered where the bathroom was, (silently cursing herself for forgetting to ask earlier) but then decided that that matter could be settled later on. After pulling on a plain night gown, she opened the closet door at the far right corner of the room and smiled happily as she found a set of clean, fluffy, white futons folded neatly inside. She was not used to sleeping with futons since at the Hyuuga Manor despite the grandeur antiquity, they usually used beds, but the futon she chose was quite thick that it wasn't much of a difference, whether she was sleeping on a bed or a futon. She made a mental note to tell her father to buy her one someday; the idea of sleeping on the floor made her excited. The pillow, on the other hand, was rather bothersome—it was hard and small and could only hoist the head partially—but Hinata didn't mind.

She was just too tired to even think about the pillow.

* * *

Hyuuga Hinata woke up the next morning, having early sunshine pouring into the room through opened door that showed a minimalist-styled green garden. There were some rustling sounds coming from the corner. Still lying on her back, Hinata turned to face the other way only to find a figure standing in front of a full-length mirror at the corner.

"Not much of an early person, are you?" asked the person.

Hinata blinked twice before the fuzzy figure finally came into focus. She automatically bolted up once she realized who it was and made sure that the futon covers were well-covering herself. "Mr. Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister glanced her way for second before turning back to the mirror. He was obviously dressing—his white shirt was not tucked in and it was only half-way buttoned, while his hands were fumbling with a dark-colored tie clad around the collar. His hair was still untidy, and was still damp from his morning shower. Blushing furiously, Hinata turned her head away.

There was another futon besides her futon, she saw. This other futon, though, was already folded and tidied, ready to be set back into the closet. So he had slept in the same room, thought Hinata. The thought of it made her blush even deeper.

Perhaps he realized the change of color on her face that Uchiha Sasuke said with a dry tone in his voice, "Don't worry; I didn't even realize you were there until this morning."

Hinata blinked again.

"As prime minister, I only get two to three hours of sleep every night, squeezed in a tight schedule of protocols and meetings, so I won't let those precious hours slip by … touching you," he said, finalizing the buttons and the tie knot. "If you feel uncomfortable of this situation," he continued, "I can get my study room,"—he indicated the room next door with a slight tilt of his head—"cleaned up and have you sleep there instead, but it might take about a week or so to have it ready," he added.

Hinata, not knowing how she should respond, simply replied, "That sounds nice."

The Uchiha then picked up his suit that was hanging nearby, with a swift move, put it on, and walked towards Hinata. For a second, Hinata thought he was approaching her, but then she realized that he was only reaching for the folded futon beside her. After setting the futon inside the closet, the Prime Minister made his way out of the room. But before he stepped out, he turned to Hinata and asked, "Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"

* * *

Hinata didn't like the idea of going to school guarded by a dozen women dressed in black blazers with mouthpieces hanging from their ears, but the particular blond assistant from the day earlier (which she learned later on was named Uzumaki Naruto) insisted that the guards were part of protocol. He explained that once entering the school grounds, the amount of guards would be decreased to four with one following Hinata. Hinata found this ridiculous, but yet again the assistant said it was necessary.

After the cold encounter with the Prime Minister earlier that morning, perhaps the only enjoyable thing that happened was to meet Chiyo-baasan, the old lady who in charge of the residence's kitchens. The tea that she brewed was simply delightful and breakfast that she made was wonderful and Hinata couldn't wait for recess to eat the bento the old lady had prepared for her.

"Could you just let me down here? I can walk to school," said Hinata, to the chauffer driving the car that was taking her to school, about several blocks away from the institution's building. The thought of approaching the school in a long limousine surrounded by five Harley-Davidsons with mad sirens shrieking somehow was out of the picture.

"I'm sorry, miss, but the order was to drop you off at school, not several blocks away from school," was the reply, causing Hinata to frown slightly.

"Well, then, could you at least not stop in front of the gate? The car might block others," suggested Hinata.

"Very well, then, miss."

The extremely long sedan came to a halt right beside the gates of the celebrated high-school (which, to Hinata, was no difference from stopping in front of it, since it was so close) and the motorcycles covered the entrance. Students crowded around the gates to see what was happening: even though it was a school for the wealthy, no one had ever made such an overwhelming entrance. Four women in black with shades immediately formed a circle surrounding Hinata as she stepped out from the limo. Mental, she thought. As if there was someone existing out there, willing to kidnap her any second.

"Oh, look who came in with a bunch of bodyguards."

Hinata spun around to find Tenten, stepping out from the crowd with her arms crossed. As the crowd began to dissolve, Hinata walked up to Tenten happily to greet her friend, "Tenten!"

"You didn't tell me that you got engaged," said Tenten, curtly, brushing away Hinata's cheerful greeting. She glared at Hinata.

"What—?" Hinata staggered. She quickly covered the blow by adding, "Oh, well, that wasn't…"

"Wasn't what?" demanded Tenten, coldly. "Do you know how I felt when my dad told me about it? He said he heard that Hyuuga's daughter was engaged to Prime Minister Uchiha and asked me to send his congratulations to you, while I—here—your friend, your desk mate, every day spending hours talking to you, didn't even know a single thing about this! And the whole school! They even know about it! I might as well be the last one to know." Tenten's hand flailed madly as if there was something wrong with the air around her.

Hinata's face fell. "I—I'm sorry, Tenten, I should've told you earlier," she said, searching for a reason. "It was rather sudden…"

"I thought we were friends," said Tenten, shortly.

"We are!" Hinata insisted, at once.

"Well, friends share," said Tenten, sarcastically. "You probably think of me as some idiotic girl who only talks about discounts, who's not worth knowing whether you got engaged!"

Hinata glanced sideways nervously. It was partly true. "Tenten, it's not like that…"

"You should've told me," said Tenten. With that, she made her way, stomping, into the school building, leaving Hinata alone with her bodyguards.

* * *

Uchiha Sasuke stood, staring blankly at the files on his desk. There were five (at least—there might be more under the heap of papers) folders, laying, waiting to be checked and signed: the red one was from the Ministry of Education, Science, Sports, and Culture, the pale blue was from the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries, the green was from his Secretary of State, the ivory was a note from the parliament, while the last, yet most crucial, was from the Ministry of Finance. Sasuke tapped a finger on that yellow folder, impatiently. He did not like it when he had to check on financial matters, since it was such a sensitive subject: one wrong decision might lead the whole nation towards destruction. He opened the folder with a flick of his forefinger and slowly settled on his office chair.

Apparently, the previous prime minister had left his position with the nation's macro economy failing slightly. Sasuke frowned. He knew he had to do something about that if he wanted a positive response from the parliament on his first hundred-day of governing report, but doing something too drastic when the government was still not stable would not be wise either.

Then there was the folder from the Ministry of Education, Science, Sports, and Culture.

Closing the yellow folder, Sasuke moved on to the red one. As he read the report, he grew to know that the budget for this department had been cut drastically during the previous governing period. Problems occurring included the raise of grade-school fees, the number of middle-school drop-outs, and the change of compulsory education curriculums. Such troublesome, thought Sasuke, mimicking his Head of Staff's best quote.

Sasuke closed the folder and arranged the other ones in a neat stack on his right. He pressed the number 1 button on his desk phone.

"Good morning, Mr. Prime Minister," a voice said through the intercom speaker.

"Yes, good morning, Shizune," Sasuke replied, addressing his personal secretary. "Could you arrange a meeting with the Ministry of Education for me? Squeeze it somewhere in my schedule tomorrow, please."

"Yes, sir."

Sasuke paused for a second. "And could you call in Shikamaru for me, please?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Shizune."

"You're welcome, sir."

Sasuke shifted in the chair behind his desk. Being the people's leader was never an easy task to do; whoever said it was? Being prime minister meant he had to carry out the nation's needs and wills, set aside his own personal desires, face the opposition party, and deal with other countries from around the world. He carried the weight of the whole nation's burden on his shoulders. Making decisions was his job and intelligent talks before making one was always a help.

There was a single knock on the door before it creaked open. "You called on me, sir?"

"Yes, I did, Shika," Sasuke replied, standing up from his chair. He moved to the sofa in front of his desk and gestured the Head of Staff to sit. "Please."

The notorious genius obeyed, closing the door behind him.

"Any word on the President of the Asia Pacific Union?" asked Sasuke, casually, starting the conversation as he settled on one of the sofas. The audient one took a spot on the opposite sofa.

"Well, he's fine, I've heard. Fortunately, the hotel where he's staying provides humidifiers. It's quite useful to keep the skin subtle, I suppose. I'm not a dermatologist, you see," answered Shikamaru with a shrug. He was pretty sure that the superior one did not call him in just to talk about the old bloke.

Sasuke leaned forward, showing that he was into serious business. He conjured up the red folder and shoved it Shikamaru's way. "I was thinking about doing something about that, but I wanted to your opinion on it first."

Shikamaru nodded. Reports from the Ministry of Education, Science, Sports, and Culture, he read silently. He flipped through the papers. "What're you going to do, sir?"

"Well, the Education, Science, Sports, and Culture Department seems to be in need of extra budget. I realized that most of its usual budget has gone to the national defense and military section; we can't do much about that, since the prior prime minister decided to revive the national army and that wasn't much of a wrong decision, but I can't let the Education Department run on its current budget. The twenty-percent budget loss means subsidy cuts," Sasuke mentioned with his eyes set on the folder that Shikamaru was skimming through. "Subsidy cuts for public schools."

"You don't want that to happen," stated Shikamaru, reading Sasuke's mind.

"I don't want that to happen, yes," Sasuke repeated, sharply. "You and I are here, Shika, because the elder generation was wise enough to prioritize education, focusing on compulsory education that goes from grade-school to middle school. I remember in our days, public elementary school was fee-less and middle school was affordable. Anyone could get into high school as long as they were willing to. But if you take a look nowadays, kids tend to quit before they reach high school. Why? They say, they want to earn money early and that resuming to high school would be a waste of money. If this,"—Sasuke pointed at the red folder—"remains the way it is now, it won't be long till the time this country is led by a person who doesn't even know what an algebra equation is."

"I pity those who have never been to high school," mumbled Shikamaru, staring at the number of middle school drop-outs. "Such troublesome," he added.

Sasuke nodded. "So do I, though our reasons might be different." Then he took out the papers from inside the red folder and spread them out on the table separating him and Shikamaru. He reached out for another folder resting on his desk, a particular ivory one, and took out the papers from that folder as well. "So, I prepared a plan—something I reckon the parliament might not like."

The two soon were involved in a serious discussion, as they scanned through each paper present on the table. The Prime Minister would once in a while take out his Parker pen and scribble some notes on a spare sheet of paper, while the other marked out some important points. The tactic genius would often shake his head, disapproving the Uchiha's plans, for some seemed to be too dangerous to take out. The Prime Minister would insist sometimes, causing the inferior to come up with a plan-B. The meeting went on until lunchtime approached, when Shikamaru checked on his watch.

"Sir, I believe there's a meeting over lunch arranged between you and the Crown Prince, today," said Shikamaru as he collected the papers.

"Oh, is there?" Sasuke replied, looking up from his notes. He did not seem surprised, though. Perhaps he remembered that he had an appointment with the Emperor-to-be.

"Yes, it's being held at the Castle," explained Shikamaru, handing folders to the Prime Minister. He paused, hesitating whether to continue. "Sir?"

"Yes?" Sasuke asked, relaxed, as he put on his suit.

"How is Miss Hyuuga doing?" asked the Nara. He asked not out of his own interest really, but it was more of curiosity. He learned earlier that morning that the young lady had moved in to the Prime Minister's duty residence.

Sasuke froze for less than a millisecond before answering, "Fine, I suppose; she'd be at her school right now." He turned to the Head of Staff. "Why is that you're asking?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "I was wondering whether she's experiencing any difficulties—adapting to her new status, that is."

"I'm afraid, Shika, that at this moment," began the Prime Minister, making his way to the door, "I have more important matters to deal with than my own personal affairs."

Shikamaru stood, astounded, for a moment. He blinked, and then mentally shook the shock out of him. "Yes, sir." Opening the exit door yet once again for his leader, he said in accordance, "I suppose you do."

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: goodness, this chapter has become dark and serious. I'm not an expert when it comes to politics, so I'm just trying my best here. I hope you liked it. Don't forget to review, okay? And thanks for reading…


	6. Chapter 5

**Pre-note:** thank you to those who have reviewed and to my beta, Audriel. –bows-

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, verbal profanities

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 6 Dreadful Days**

o

* * *

Hinata stared blankly at her morning cup of green tea. It was her fourth morning at the Prime Minister's residence, a Monday to be precise. Her school bag settled on the bar stool beside her as she continued her contemplation at the mini-bar-like table. Once in a while, she would pick on the rim of the cup and let out a little sigh. After approximately fifteen minutes of moping, she seemed to give in as she dropped her head onto the table. Chiyo-baasan, who had been watching Hinata from over the sink, obviously noticed the desperate aura surrounding the high school girl.

Setting the newly cleaned dishes aside, the old lady sat across Hinata and gently tapped on the girl's elbow. "Dear, your ride should be arriving soon."

Hinata did not budge. "I know," she mumbled, still burying her head in her arms.

Chiyo-baa smiled and leaned closer to the distressed Hinata. "You know, with such a hopeless look like that, you could put a full box of chocolate to waste."

Hinata lifted her head, looking puzzled.

Chiyo-baa pretended to be shocked. "Goodness, with that miserable face of yours, you look even older than I do." The light joke managed to paste a faint smile on Hinata's features. Chiyo-baa then asked with the might of a wise, experienced, old woman, "Is there anything wrong going on?"

Hinata slowly straightened up. "It's—," she hesitated, glancing at the elder one, who gave her an understanding look. "Chiyo-baa," she called, changing the beginning of her sentence. "What would you do if you wanted to be forgiven?"

"Forgiven by whom? God?" asked Chiyo-baa.

"No, I—," Hinata's voice trailed off again. She reached out for the raku tea cup and kept her eyes fixed on the light green liquid inside of it. "It's my friend. I—I kept a secret from her, and she found out about it from someone else. I feel… guilty about it," said Hinata. "I think she's still mad at me, you see. We haven't been talking over the weekend."

Chiyo-baa nodded. "Well, you could try to start a talk because fights can only stop if you talk over it."

"I know," said Hinata in a small voice. Her magnificent pearl eyes were still focusing on the tea.

Then there was a sound coming from the front gates, signaling that the black limousine along with the big motorbikes had pulled up in the front yard. Hinata sipped her tea for one last time before standing up from the stool. She took her bag and the jacket lying beside it then said to Chiyo-baa, "I'll be going," unwillingly, without any further eye contact.

Chiyo-baa continued to watch as the girl made her way out the front doors. To old gran Chiyo, the problem seemed to be more than just an ordinary high school girl fight.

* * *

Uchiha Sasuke was yet again in his office, sitting in his beloved arm chair behind the teakwood desk. But this time, instead of running through papers, he was resting his head on the table. His fingers were gently massaging the sides of his temple. A headache, he thought; a light one. It was probably due to the lack of sleep throughout the previous three weeks. He let out a sigh; his head was still on the table. How was he supposed to gain any sleep hours when his schedule ran through 6 AM to 3 AM? It was a wonder, he noted, how elderly people could lead such a nation without suffering hypertension or heart failure. Perhaps they didn't take theirs tasks as serious as he did.

Or perhaps they didn't have a stranger sleeping in the same room.

To be honest, having to share the same room with the young Miss Hyuuga was not his own idea. It was sort of inevitable: the situation made it to be so. Living with Miss Hyuuga was not in his agenda when he first became prime minister, so he had all of the other rooms in the residence renovated: one was turned into his study room, one transformed into a private library, another made as a mini meeting room with a massive mahogany table set, leaving only one room to be slept in—originally, for himself. It was made in the traditional, simple style because he liked the thought of its immensity and emptiness, and he did not like being bothered during his rest hours. Having someone else in the room was just as bad as being bothered.

It was true that during the first night, he didn't realize Miss Hyuuga's existence, but that was more due to the dim lights and the fact young lady was already asleep. The next night, he was fully aware of her existence, even though it was past midnight. For no clear reason, he became restless; he only slept after more than an hour of lying awake, recalling his previous activities—something completely new to him. The day after that, he decided to lower the dose of his usual caffeine intakes, thinking that he might have exceeded the limit of adrenaline secretion, but the nutrition change did not give a big effect. So Sasuke gave in: he knew the problem wasn't the tea or coffee; it was the girl.

Sasuke sighed. He shifted slightly, lifting his head from the table. He stared at the papers scattered messily on the teak wood. He hated how they were so disorganized.

Why did he act so reckless? He should have just let rumors be rumors (and then get kicked from the Office? Certainly, no, he thought) and not let the Hyuuga bother his life. (But it wasn't really her fault; he was the one who started the whole problem in the first place.) He never should have invited her over; if only he knew earlier. His motivations were biased: he let his personal desires to overcome his brother out rule the position entrusted by the nation.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered whether his brother had ever made such a mistake in his life.

He literally shook the thought out of his head, causing tremendous pain run down the middle of his cranium. He had to get back to his job, looking at the papers unenthusiastically. Fraught, he pressed on the number 1 button yet again.

"Yes, Mr. Prime Minister?" came the familiar voice of Shizune.

"Shizune," said Sasuke through gritted teeth, fighting the pain in his head, "get me some aspirin."

"Aspirin, sir?" She sounded confused.

"Yes, Shizune, aspirin." He needed the pills—badly.

* * *

Uzumaki Naruto sat with his legs crossed, in the corner of the Circle Room. As Personal Assistant of the Prime Minister, he did not get his own office room—unlike the Nara, who got a personal ward—instead, he was given a desk, side by side with the Prime Minister's secretary's desk, just outside the PM's office. On that desk of his, an agenda book was lying open. Naruto played with his pen for a moment, biting the end every now and then, before scribbling some words onto the book.

"Busy?" a voice came asking.

Naruto glanced upwards. Haruno Sakura, the PM's spokesperson, was approaching, making her way across the room. To Naruto, Sakura always had a radiating, shining aura that would make his heart skipped a beat—though he never knew why exactly. He stood up awkwardly, replying, "No, not really. I was just—uh—rescheduling the PM's agenda."

"Rescheduling?" asked Sakura. She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," said Naruto, composing himself. He walked around his desk, and then casually leaned on its front side. Sakura followed his gesture and settled beside him, which made his heart skip yet another beat. "The schedule was—uh—sort of packed, so I—uh—moved several appointments around. I managed to get rid of several night-time meetings. I hope the PM can sleep better, then."

"Sleep better?" asked Sakura, glancing at Naruto.

Naruto nodded. "He's been suffering a headache. When Shizune asked whether she should call a doctor, he insisted that it was merely due to the lack of sleep. I ran over his schedule again, and well, let's just say that it was too overwhelming. So I'm trying to move things over."

Sakura sniggered. "Oh, it's not the schedule."

"It's not?" asked Naruto, flabbergasted.

"Oh, no, it's not," replied Sakura, waving a hand nonchalantly. A playful grin highlighted her features as she thought of the Prime Minister and a certain pearl-eyed high school girl. "He's got other things in his hands to be busy with during the night time, I suppose."

"He does?"

Sakura rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Naruto, for a 28-year-old adult male, you are so naïve."

Naruto furrowed his eyebrows. He then shrugged, deciding to shake off the subject. "Well, whatever that is, it's turning the PM into a junkie. He's been taking aspirin."

"Don't—you—ever—," Sakura taunted, immediately with her forefinger raised at Naruto, "let—a—reporter—hear—what—you—just—said." Sakura glanced around the Circle Room (which, fortunately, was deserted, except for the two of them) cautiously, looking out for eavesdroppers.

Naruto muttered something that sounded like, "paranoid".

"The press can kill," said Sakura, assuring herself that there was nobody around, "and I'm sure you know that."

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Naruto.

Sakura took a deep breath. Folding her arms, she said, "Aspirin, huh?"

Naruto nodded. He pursed his lips forwards, showing his disapproval. "It's only been three weeks."

"Three weeks…"

There was a pause.

"…out of five years."

The two glanced at each other, smiling ironically. They let out a little sigh simultaneously, knowing what the earlier statement meant. There was still a long way to go.

* * *

Iruka-sensei was helpless; the look on his face was pretty obvious. There were notes on the blackboard to be copied by the students, but with extremely rich and over-spoilt teenagers as pupils, you just couldn't expect too much. It was fifteen minutes to the end of the final period and the class was reckless. Instead of writing down the notes, the students were busy chattering as usual; a paper-ball fight was developing among the students seated in the far back of the classroom. Sighing deeply, Iruka decided to dismiss the class even though it was not time yet. There would not be any use of pursuing it anyway.

"Oh, and Tenten, Hinata," he called, after allowing the class to leave, "the remedial tests will be held on Friday. Please be prepared. I'd hate if either of you had to fail this year."

The two girls nodded in recognition. Satisfied, Iruka compiled his text books and left the class along with the students. Finally, some fresh air, he thought in relief.

Hinata glanced nervously at Tenten, who was busy putting her books into a small tote bag. Hinata hesitated: she wanted to talk, but she doubted that Tenten was willing to. However, when Tenten finally got up to leave, Hinata blurted out, "I guess we've got to get ready for Friday, don't we?"

Tenten froze midway. She stood still for a brief moment before giving Hinata a very strange look. She then continued to walk towards the door, making her way out and leaving Hinata all alone in the classroom.

* * *

Thursdays, thought Uchiha Sasuke, perhaps were destined to be dreadful days. Today was the opening of the Asia-Pacific Annual Summit; unfortunately, this year, the summit was held at his country, so Sasuke, though very much unwilling, had to give a nice opening speech and listen to hours of lousy, old men talking of what he personally thought of as bullshit. His headache, since the beginning of the week, did not seem to cease and all of those long dialogues just got on his nerves. During the Head of State dinner, he plastered a (very) forced smile to avoid answering those many questions asked by nearly everyone. Then by the end of the day, the outrageous issue finally came.

The President of the Asia-Pacific Union (yes, the one with dry weather allergies) had approached him and casually asked, "I'm sure your fiancée will be attending the gala dinner this Sunday, won't she?"

If looks could kill, the President surely would have been dead by that very second, but unfortunately he was too busy casting teeth-full smiles at the blitzing cameras surrounding the two men to recognize the lethal expression on Sasuke's face. Sasuke scowled silently at the short, fat, white-haired lad.

"Won't she?" the President repeated; this time giving Sasuke full attention.

Once again, mimicking a very warm smile, Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke replied shortly, "Of course."

So when the dinner was over, and all the other Head of States had gone back to their hotels, and Sasuke was in the back seat of the sleek black limo, all he had in mind was to remind him to tell the young girl back at the residence that she would have a gala dinner to attend over the weekend. His thoughts were so occupied by the matter that he did not realize where the limo was heading to until it passed a very familiar curb. Sasuke turned to his PA, who was sitting in front of him, and asked with a frown, "Where are we going?"

The blonde-haired man glanced up from the PDA he was working on. "The residence, sir."

"Haven't I got any meetings after this?" asked Sasuke, curiously.

"No, sir," replied the PA.

"That's odd," said Sasuke, without any effort to hide his surprise. He checked on his watch to find out that it was only ten. He stared suspiciously at his PA, who now seemed to be very busy with the PDA, but then decided not to press on the subject any further. Sasuke then turned to the window, which was showing the residence's gate, glowing with garden lights.

The limo soon came to a halt as it pulled up in the residence's front lane. The old chauffer opened the door to the Prime Minister, allowing him to crawl out, leaving the PA inside. The PM nodded to both of his inferiors, bidding them good night, then finally with a very heavy sigh from inside his chest, he walked through the residence's door.

The lights of the living room were already dimmed and the house seemed deserted. Sasuke peeled of his suit slowly, tipping his head sideways, as he tried to get rid of the weariness from that day. Pulling on the knot of his tie, he settled under the wide kotatsu in the middle of the living room. He wanted something to drink, but as he glanced towards the kitchen, he realized that Chiyo-baasan must have already gone home at this hour. Lazily, he got up from the kotatsu, dragging his suit along, and went over to the kitchen. Dishes from the night's dinner were already cleaned from the table and there were no snacks available in the cupboards. Sasuke opened the refrigerator only to find several cans of chilled sake inside. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, wondering where all the good stuff had gone to, and then decided to settle with a can of sake.

He sat on the mini-bar stool as he played for a second with the sake can. There was supposed to be a button somewhere on that can to heat the liquid inside of it. It was a wonder of technology, he mumbled silently, pressing on the button that turned out to be on the bottom of the can. As he waited for the sake to warm up, he rested his head onto the table. A headache was coming again. He knew better than to be drinking especially when he was having a headache, but, glancing sideways at the can, alcohol was always tempting. He grabbed the aluminum tube, plucked open the tab, and took a huge gulp of the rice liqueur. The bittersweet taste was good, as always.

The only problem was that if you drank alcohol with a headache forming in the side of your head, the results could be fatal.

By the last drop of alcohol existing in that can, pangs of pain began to fill his head; it was so bad that Sasuke could barely get up from the chair. Even when he did finally manage to stand up, he had grip on to the sides of the table to keep up straight. He once again dragged his suit along his side as he leaned onto the walls, slowly making his way towards his private quarters.

When he reached the doorway and slid it open, he closed his eyes for more than three seconds to adjust to the fully bright lights from inside his room—something that he was not expecting.

The Hyuuga, he thought.

Desperately leaning onto the sliding doors, he still managed to decipher the young girl's outline from her surroundings. She was sitting on a futon, half of her body tucked into the sheets, wearing her regular white night gown. There were books lying beside her; Advanced Biology for High School Levels, Sasuke read one of the titles through squinted eyes, though it was rather miraculous that he could actually still read over the pain and dizziness. There was something different about the girl; her eyes somehow seemed to be red and her cheeks that were usually pale were blotchy. She was crying; even a drunken man like him could tell. She seemed to notice Sasuke's arrival, so she furiously wiped her face with her sleeves and turned to look his way. Sasuke frowned at her actions: he had caught her crying; there was no need really to wipe the tears and act so innocent about it.

Still leaning on to the door, Sasuke mumbled the only thing that he had in mind out loud, "You'll be coming to the Head of States' gala dinner on Sunday evening," addressing his fiancée. He pushed his self forwards, wobbly walking towards the futon closet, but failing miserably midway. He stumbled by Hinata's futon, falling forwards on all four.

Sasuke saw the girl blink. She was probably still dumbfounded by his sudden appearance and now that he tripped right beside her futon, she must be confused, he thought amidst the clouds in his head. He must have looked like fool. Sasuke silently cursed himself for falling into the temptations of alcohol.

But the girl did not turn out to be as slow as he imagined. Once he was on his knees, she immediately got up from the futon and gave him support with an arm. "Are you okay, sir?" she asked, despite the tear stains on her own face.

_Women are odd_, thought Sasuke. Pain seared through his head as he glanced to the left at the pearl-eyed girl who just happened to be his fiancée. He staggered once more. _Men are even odder_, he thought again as he slowly collapsed onto the soft, white, and vanilla-scented futon of hers.

* * *

Hinata had her eyes on a sheet of paper in front of her but her focus was not on it at all. Her thoughts were wandering. The incident last night bothered her the most. The Prime Minister had come home earlier than she expected. He had seen her crying, though she was not that sure that he actually realized that fact, since he seemed to be under the influence of alcohol. The Prime Minister had fallen asleep on her futon, on top of several of her books, still in his work clothes. Hinata was not given any options but to assist the PM by taking off his tie, belt, and socks; she also unbuttoned the collar, afraid that he might suffocate in his sleep. She spent minutes staring at the sleeping figure of the man that was politically running the country—thinking that this particular man was also the one she one day might marry—before she finally got up again to collect her books. She had given up her futon to the sleeping PM.

The voice of Iruka announcing, "Fifteen more minutes," snapped her back to reality.

Hinata stared at her sheet of paper. Realizing that she only had less than half of the questions on it filled, she frowned. It was irritating, really. She wished that Iruka had come up with a better date to hold the remedial. Why did it have to be today? Hinata clutched her head furiously. Sighing, she began to fill the blanks with random answers: anything she remembered from the book she read yesterday. (Was pepsin the enzyme secreted by the liver? Were viruses supposed to multiply by living inside of bacteria or by dividing themselves? What kind of protein builds the DNA? Everything was so mixed up.) She glanced at Tenten, who was seated several empty desks away from her for the test. It was strange to Hinata that Tenten seemed so composed during the test, for she was the one who always seemed to be acting so brainless; prejudice was evil, thought Hinata.

Iruka-sensei then called time up.

Hinata looked desperately at her exam sheet. It was so helpless that Hinata felt like chucking it through the window instead of handing it in. She slowly stood up and gave the paper to Iruka, who eyed her inquisitively. She avoided the teacher's gaze by returning to her desk and began to collect her stuff. She saw Tenten do the same thing on the other side of the empty classroom.

Tenten was the first to leave the room. She gave Iruka the afternoon greeting then walked out from the classroom. Hinata, seeing this, followed Tenten's steps: greeting the teacher, then she hurried through the hallway to catch up with the other dark-haired girl.

"Tenten, wait," she called out to the girl walking ahead of her. She quickened her pace to catch up.

The other girl did not slow down. She continued walking at a constant speed.

Hinata rushed forwards; she was now in front of Tenten, blocking the one in double-buns. When Tenten tried to take step sideways, Hinata held out a hand to prevent her from walking away. "Tenten, please." Hinata was no longer pleading; she was begging.

Tenten sighed. She did not say anything, but she stood still in place.

Relieved that she was given an opportunity, Hinata said clearly, "Tenten, look, I am truly sorry that I didn't tell you about—," Hinata was suddenly lost for words, "—about the engagement," she continued. "I'm really, really sorry."

The other one did not budge. She seemed to suddenly grow interest in the hallway's floor linings.

Realizing that her attempt on apology was failing, Hinata repeated it all over again. "I'm sorry, Tenten," she said; this time, it felt heavier to say because she knew mere apology would not be enough. She had to explain everything. "I'm really sorry. I know you're mad at me for not telling you, but please don't ignore me." Hinata swallowed. "If—if I knew earlier, I would've told you, too, but I didn't even know that I was getting engaged. It was set up by my father; I didn't know anything." Hinata blinked as her eyes began to feel hot. She did not want to cry, but she could not help it. "I haven't been talking to my father for a week; Hanabi hasn't called at all; and the Prime Minister's not helping at all, going home at midnight, all drunk and stuff. I've barely been talking to anyone for a whole week, Tenten. I thought I'd be fine, leaving home and being independent, but I'm not! I usually get to talk to you at school, you know, but since we haven't been talking…," Hinata paused, taking a deep breath. She was crying. She was crying over the same subject she cried over last night. She hated herself for this. Hinata drew another deep breath, covering a part of her face with her left hand. "I'm really sorry, Tenten. I—I…"

Tenten now was looking Hinata with a cold tinge in her eyes.

"…I hate being alone."

* * *

a/n: and WOW! This chapter contains more than 4000 words! I hope everyone could bear with that bit of angst I added at the end of this chap. Yes, for those who have read this chapter, do please write a review. And once again, I'd like to emphasize that I am totally no expert in politics (I'm being very honest here), so this fic is bound to have flaws here and there. I'd love inputs, anyway… thank you for reading…


	7. Chapter 6

**Pre-note:** I did mention in my profile that I was going to update soon. That said, I meant by Christmas, but I was busy with exams, so I pushed the schedule back to New Year's Eve. But that got delayed as well, so instead, the new chapter's here to celebrate President Obama's inauguration. –laughs- Rejoice!

The chapter was originally 17 pages long. Earlier, I decided to divide it into three parts, but as you can see now, I've put it back together. So please enjoy reading this ridiculously long chapter. **Standard disclaimer** applies.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 6A – Contemplations, Revelations, and Conversations**

o

* * *

"I hate being alone."

Hinata crumbled as she finished her sentence. She could no longer speak; she gritted her teeth hard to prevent her lips from trembling. She held a hand over her face, trying to wipe away the tears—but they seemed to be unstoppable. Her shoulders were quivering and her knees felt weak; she was giving in to that vulnerable feeling, slowing slouching down onto the floor of the grand school hallway.

But before her knees touched the cold marble, a hand stopped her from collapsing. Hinata glanced upwards.

Tenten was holding out her hand, supporting Hinata from the side.

"Tenten," Hinata began, though she failed to continue due to the heavy hiccups that were now occurring.

The girl in double buns laughed suddenly. "You really should get something to drink," she said, offering the desperate one for some hiccup remedy. Hinata, still hitching every now and then, smiled weakly at Tenten's abrupt change of expression.

"I'm really sorry," Hinata managed to say between the breaks of breath.

Tenten shook her head slowly. "No, it's okay. I shouldn't have been mad at you." She let out a heavy sigh. There was a mature look on her face that amazed Hinata for a moment. "Everyone's got their own little dirty secret," Tenten said, grinning widely. "Though I have to say I was surprised to know you got engaged," she continued, adding a squeal to her voice, "to the Prime Minister! You're so lucky!" She began to poke Hinata at her sides.

Avoiding her friend's fingers, Hinata laughed, despite the lingering tears. She was glad to see Tenten was back to being the old Tenten she always knew: happy and loud. What made her even more relieved was that they were back talking again. It felt, somehow, very lightening.

Hinata sighed lightly.

Tenten, looking up, halted and asked, "What's wrong?"

Hinata gave a small smile. "It's not as lucky as you think it is," she replied with a light shrug. "It was set up."

"Oh, come on!" Tenten slapped Hinata on the shoulder, playfully. "Everyone in this school has probably been in an _omiai_ once! What's the difference?"

Her words were true, thought Hinata. The majority of the students were heirs of certain companies and world-class industries; it would not be odd for them to be set up in marriages arranged by their parents. Hinata tilted her head slightly, remembering that even Tenten had attended an _omiai_ once. Lucky for her: Tenten managed to run away before her mother could even dress her in a kimono. Perhaps because it was such a standard routine for the students, they did not make much of a fuss when the news about Hinata's engagement surfaced.

Tenten took Hinata by the elbow and grinned. "I've always wanted to ask you, but since, you know, we weren't talking… anyways, does the Prime Minister use some kind of skin moisturizer? You know, how his skin seems to always be so white and shiny? My skin's dreadful; it's sooo dry and lately it's gotten flaky—I can't believe it: flaky!—so, I am so curious whether men actually use skin moisturizers…"

Hinata listened to her friend's chatter as they moved through the hallways. If the world were to end that very second, Hinata thought, she would be content; she would be happy, no matter what.

* * *

It was barely nine o'clock in the evening and Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke was already getting ready to go home from his office. He could not believe it either, since it had become a custom for him to go home after midnight and it felt so… _weird_ to be packing the files at this time, but Uzumaki Naruto had assured him a few minutes ago that there was no more agenda left to attend that day, so Sasuke thought that he might as well go back to the residence. Setting his briefcase on to his work desk, he gazed at the massive grandfather clock that stood in the corner of his office: it really was only nine. There must be something fishy going on, Sasuke thought as a vague image of his assistant sniggering swam through his mind.

Literally shaking the odd thoughts out off his head, Sasuke stood up from his chair and walked out the door, where that particular assistant of his was waiting. Naruto tagged along the leader as he made his way to the limousine parked by the main entrance of the building. Sasuke glanced sideways at that assistant of his with intense curiosity in his eyes. Naruto, sensing the sharp stares, began to whistle innocently and avoided any further eye-contact by finding interest at the bright night sky.

It was not until the limousine started to move that Sasuke finally decided to ask frontally. "Did you somehow change my schedule?"

The question was so sudden that the inquired jumped in his seat and stuttered, "No—no! I didn't do anything!" But the cold raven eyes made his insides coil and he submitted rather instantly. "Well," said Naruto, grinning nervously at the glaring one, "I did move some parts around."

"Naruto…," Sasuke started, with a deep frown at his inferior.

"Sir, your ministers did not mind moving the meetings to Monday. No one would mind moving a meeting from eleven at night to a decent nine o'clock in the morning," Naruto chipped up, playing with the pen in his right hand.

"I thought I had an appointment with the House of Councilors at that time." The hint of disapproval was now very clear.

"They cancelled the appointment this morning, sir. The particular member was admitted to the hospital because of heart failure. Bless him; he's nearly eighty," Naruto said, placing a hand on his own chest.

The Prime Minister replied with a short, "Hn." He still was not pleased with what his assistant had done to the schedule.

Naruto, recognizing the obnoxious atmosphere surrounding the Prime Minister, turned away and began to gaze at the street lights outside the window. He knew better not to bother the Prime Minister at such time. It has been more than ten years since he first met the person who was now his boss and to Naruto, though there were several light changes, overall Uchiha Sasuke was still that arrogant brat he first knew. It had become a habit for Naruto to play at that particular point of his boss—although the results were usually very severe for the blonde one. Naruto made a face at his reflection on the window as he imagined what punishment the Prime Minister had in mind for him this time.

"What time do I need to get to office tomorrow?" asked Sasuke, out of the blue.

Naruto did not answer.

"Naruto…," said Sasuke in a taunting tone that made Naruto's spine shiver.

The whiskered man only grinned and replied shortly, "Tomorrow's Saturday, sir."

"Yes, I know, Naruto," said Sasuke, impatiently at his assistant. "So, what time will my schedule begin tomorrow?"

"Saturday is a weekend, sir," Naruto said, still grinning happily.

"I know that, Nar—," the Prime Minister began, but then paused as he realized what his assistant meant. The look on his face darkened and it was not due to the dim interior light of the limousine. "Naruto, you have not, by any chance, cancelled all my plans for tomorrow, have you?"

"Weekends are day-offs," replied Naruto; the lines of his eyes were forming crescents. He leaned back on the leather seat casually, continuing to gaze at the streets outside.

If Uchiha Sasuke was a typical person, he would have gaped at that assistant of his, but unfortunately, Sasuke was not capable of such un-composed expression. He just could not believe what his assistant had just told him. To cancel a whole day's schedule would mean to postpone all work and that would mean slacking off—he did not like the idea of that. With a deep frown, he said, "You might as well have cancelled the summit dinner."

"Oh no, sir," answered Naruto with a tinge of importance in his voice. "The Head of States will be going home by Monday, so I couldn't push that one back. But that's the only event you'll be attending for this weekend." Then he shared a spearing glare at the Prime Minister. "I suppose you will be able to take some rest then."

So that's what this was all about, thought Sasuke. He remained expressionless throughout the ride, though it was obvious that he was in an irritable mood. His left foot was tapping impatiently against the dark-colored carpet while he rested his chin on his palm, facing the window with empty eyes.

Naruto, despite knowing his life was in danger, chirped up, "Might as well have a chat with Miss Hyuuga, sir."

Sasuke threw the other man a deadly look, before returning to his window. Sasuke sighed. His raven eyes trailed the lines of his own mirror image on the window, thinking about a certain conversation he had with his three colleagues earlier that day. He was the one to pick up the subject, and the three just began to snowball—he cringed; he would rather have the conversation kept private, but a fussy pink-haired woman just had to pop up into the room and began singing out the problem to the other two, who were extremely interested by the overall theme.

"_What makes a girl cry?"_

_Uzumaki Naruto, who had been arranging files on the Prime Minister's desk, dropped a folder by the sudden question. Flabbergasted, he scurried to gather the scattered papers on floor with both hands. Once they were all tucked neatly inside the red binder, he glanced up at the meticulous black haired man who had asked the question. Odd was an understatement for Uchiha Sasuke to abruptly talk about something that was far off topic. Naruto turned to get a good look at the man who was standing by the garden window—he was gazing emptily at the garden outside with a contemplating façade. Wondering why the Prime Minister seemed to be so serious about such an immature issue, Naruto asked back, "Why is that, sir?"_

_The man in indigo shrugged. "Curious," was the only reply his assistant got._

"_Well," Naruto started, tilting his head slightly, "girls cry over everything, sir, I suppose. Sakura once cried because I told her pink doesn't really go with her skin color, though I didn't really mean that." It was his turn to shrug._

"_Really?" said Sasuke, slowly returning to his chair. "But I don't think the problem is hair-color," he mumbled; he was thinking, apparently, of something else._

"_I'm not a genius when it comes to girls, sir," the assistant replied, honestly. _

_The office door suddenly swung open, revealing a blinking Nara Shikamaru. He seemed taken aback by the attention given by both men inside the room. "Is there something I don't know going on here?" he asked, glancing back and forth from the Prime Minister to the assistant._

"_Speaking of geniuses," Naruto smiled at the Head of Staff, "our dear Nara might come to some help, sir." He walked over to Shikamaru, who now seemed completely lost, and tapped his shoulder. "Now, Mr. Nara, what makes a girl cry?"_

"_Wh-what?" The inquired one nearly jumped at Naruto's touch, sending strange looks at both the PM and Naruto. The question had surprised him as much as it surprised Naruto. "What's with the question?"_

"_Our boss needs help," said Naruto, nearly laughing._

"_Oh." Shikamaru's mouth made an 'o'-like shape. "Well, sir…," Shikamaru started. He paused. Then he turned to Naruto. "Don't girls cry over everything?"_

_The genius' reply sent Naruto into a mad chuckling fit. "See, sir? I told you," he said to the Prime Minister. "Girls can cry over movies, songs, dolls, pets, clothes—bless them, make-up, guys…"_

_Naruto continued to count down the amount of things that could cause a girl to cry; Shikamaru would add a comment every once in a while; and Sasuke would just continue to stare at both of his staff with a helpless look on his face. Their answer was true—girls probably do cry over everything, but that did not help him solve the problem. He was thinking of a pair of tear-filled eyes he had seen the other day._

_Then the office door swung open again. In came Haruno Sakura with a wad of paper in her hands. Closing the door behind her, she handed the papers to the Prime Minister, saying, "The media wants answers to these questions for today's press conference." She then turned to the other two, who happened to still be discussing the previous subject. "What's up with you two?"_

"_Hey, Sakura! Since you're a girl, you should know, right?" Naruto chipped up brightly. He pointed at the Prime Minister, who was willing to shut his mouth up at that very second, and said straight on, "Mr. PM was asking what makes a girl cry!"_

_Sakura, raising both eyebrows at the PM, answered slowly, "That depends on the situation…" Eventually, she placed her hands on her hips, and then frowned at her boss, saying in a disappointed tone, "What did you do to Miss Hyuuga, sir?"_

_The men in that room immediately stared at the only woman in awe._

"_How did you know?" Sasuke muttered, curiously. Women like Sakura are dangerous, he thought._

"_Sir, the only girl who is revolving around your life right now is Miss Hyuuga. It's easy to put two and two together." Sakura rolled her eyes, breathing out something that sounded like "dense". She glared at the Prime Minister and repeated her question again. "Sir, what did you do to Miss Hyuuga?"_

"_Nothing!" replied Sasuke, leaning onto the headrest of his whirling armchair. "How am I supposed to know what happened? All I know is that I came home, and there she was, crying." Sasuke flung his arms forward in despair. This was an interesting sight to the other three: the Prime Minister was actually pouting._

"_And then, what did you do?" Sakura continued to ask._

_Sasuke unexpectedly seemed to be in unease. "I…," he said, wanting not to answer, but Sakura intense glower forced him to carry on, "…fell asleep."_

_There was a pregnant silence._

_Sakura was gaping at the ceiling; there was noticeable disbelief in her eyes. Shikamaru and Naruto, despite not really understanding the whole problem, seemed to be interested as they pursued to listen with prying looks on their faces. The Prime Minister himself was sitting in his chair, swaying sideways in a very childish manner; once in a while, he would glance up at his spokeswoman, guiltily, hoping that she would break the silence without embarrassing him any further._

_Finally, Sakura let out a sigh. "Sir," she began, still staring at the ceiling, "at this point, you might as well be the reason why she was crying."_

"_And why is that?" Sasuke slowly asked._

"_Sir, Miss Hyuuga is a teenager; she's probably only eighteen, just a high school student. Girls her age have greater need of other people," Sakura explained. The men were leaning forward, giving her full attention. "They tend to… share what they feel, usually, with their friends or family. But, you see, sir," Sakura went on, gesturing at the Prime Minister with one hand, "You have isolated her from both her friends and family by making her stay at the Residence, so she doesn't have anyone to talk to. I suppose she was expecting you to rely on, but seeing that you're particularly hopeless…" Sakura shook her head lightly; a smirk was forming on her lips. "Sir, Miss Hyuuga is merely having a temporary breakdown."_

Sasuke was so lost in thoughts that it took him several moments to realize that the limo had already arrived at its last stop. His assistant was holding the door open, waiting for him to step down. Sasuke sighed, collected his thoughts, and straightened out his suit before finally climbing out from the limo.

He greeted his subordinates with a nod and a good night, before proceeding into the Residence.

The Residence was already dark; the lights had been dimmed out, only a few were left on, including the one in the foyer and a blurred one Sasuke presumed coming from the bedroom. Kicking off his shoes, not even bothering to pick them up, Sasuke tiredly walked through the aisle that headed towards the bedroom.

A headache was forming at the back of his head.

It was a good thing Naruto cancelled most of the PM's schedules, even though Sasuke did not want to admit it. If he had to work according to his schedule for another week, he would probably pass out.

Sasuke peeled his suit off, right before sliding the bedroom door open. The suit hung by the sleeve at his wrist as he froze at the sight of the room.

Sasuke blinked.

Hyuuga Hinata, decked in her white nightgown, was lying in her futon, snuggled under thick covers. She was fast asleep, obviously. Her figure was rather a neat sleeping figure, despite tangled amount of hair against the pillow. Everything around her was white: her nightgown, the pillow, the covers, and the futon. Her pale skin seemed to match her surroundings, leaving only her black hair in contrast.

Sasuke stood there by the doorway for quite a long time, just staring at that girl. He shrugged his suit off from his wrist, but he didn't take his eyes off from the girl nor did he move an inch from his spot.

Words from Sakura were echoing over and over in his head.

Sasuke frowned as he at last took a step into the bedroom. He took pity for the Hyuuga, since he understood how hard it was to be alone—he grew up by himself, accompanied by only Chiyo-baa—but it wasn't as if he could do anything about it: he had his own life to live, his job to be done, so there was practically no way he could, say, keep that Miss Hyuuga company. Sasuke craned his neck as he hung his suit in the corner of the room.

The vertigo was getting worse.

Sasuke mustered the rest of his strength left to drag his feet over to the closet, strip his clothes right there—not even a second feeling conscious about sharing the room with a girl—then pull out his yukata and futon from out of the closet. He wasn't sure he would get a good night's rest, due to the headache, but it felt damn nice to just lie down with his eyes shut for the mean time.

* * *

Hyuuga Hinata woke up to an empty room, as usual. The other person who regularly used the room seemed to be up and long gone: the other futon was already out of sight, folded neatly and tucked into the closet. It was Saturday, Hinata thought as her mind slowly loaded. There was no school today. She would probably mope around the Residence all day long, since she had nothing in plan to do. After her mind was fully registered, Hinata folded her futon and placed it in the closet.

She paused for a brief moment, thinking that she heard someone talking from a distance outside the bedroom door.

Hesitantly, Hinata stepped out from the bedroom, and walked down the narrow aisle. A conversation was going on in the kitchen, but Hinata wondered who ever would be talking to Chiyo-baa at such an hour. It was still quite early for a weekend. Surely, it couldn't be the Prime Minister: from what Hinata knew, he was a workaholic that never ceased to find a reason to go to office, even on weekends.

Hinata peeked from behind a wall. To her surprise, the person Chiyo-baa was talking to was indeed the Prime Minister himself. This was a rare occasion; usually by the time Hinata woke up, the PM would already be gone, off to his office—Hinata always presumed. Recovering from the surprise, Hinata continued to hide behind the white chalked wall, afraid a sudden appearance might ruin the conversation. She listened to the light chat with her eyes fixed on the tips of her toes.

"—must be worried about you. Naruto must have realized that you were being overworked," Hinata heard Chiyo-baa say. "He's just doing his job; he's trying to help you." There was a tinkle; Hinata supposed it was from the china that Chiyo-baa was arranging.

Then there was a rustling sound. Sasuke had flipped open the newspaper. "It feels odd to be home at this hour. Maybe I should just go to the office after this," he mumbled. "Or perhaps I should jog. I haven't done exercises in decades." Sasuke craned his neck; his eyes were still focused on the paper headlines.

"I say you should just lie down. Rest while you can," Chiyo-baa suggested—or rather commanded. She said it with a sharp glare at the man sitting at the table.

There was another rustle. Sasuke had flipped to the sports section of the paper. "I can't sleep when there's another person in the room with me; it gets me tense," he muttered. Glancing at the old lady, he added, "I thought you knew me better."

Hinata frowned in her hiding place. This was new to her: she never knew that the PM was not fond of her existence. True, he was always cold and did not talk much to her, but she thought that he was plainly like that. If he did not like people around, then why bother asking her to live with him? Hypocrite, thought Hinata, letting out a silent sigh.

"When is her bed going to be ready, anyways?" Hinata heard Sasuke ask.

"Tomorrow, I suppose," Chiyo-baa replied with a light chuckle. "Then you can have your beauty sleep all to yourself once again."

There was a strangled snort. (Hinata was amused. It was yet another revelation: she never knew the PM was capable of such manner.) Then suddenly the newspaper was put down and the Prime Minister grasped his forehead. He let out a much stressed moan as he slowly lowered his head onto the table. Stretching out a hand in the old lady's direction, the Prime Minister asked in a pleading tone, "Chiyo-baa, could you hand over the aspirin?"

Chiyo-baa took the medicine bottle with the tips of her fingers, but did not hand it in to the hurting one. Instead, she put the bottle on to a shelf by the sink. "I'm afraid, I can't," she replied, frowning at her employer.

"No," Sasuke moaned once more. He was in desperate need for the pills.

"Sir," said Chiyo-baa. Her voice was strong and sharp for someone so aged. "You know that kind of stuff can cause addiction, and you might as well be addicted since you've been taking those pills daily now." With her hand on her hips, the old lady said with a softer voice, "I really do suggest you to try and get more sleep if you want to get over that illness of yours."

"You're sick?"

The question came out so instantaneously from Hinata's mouth that she could not stop herself. She had shown herself from behind the wall as she inquired the question. The PM, who previously had his head down on the table, immediately snapped up straight as Chiyo-baa turned to the girl with a surprised look on her face. Hinata blushed at the sudden attention from the two older persons. She directly avoided the stares by glancing sideways rather nervously.

"Good morning, Miss Hyuuga!" Chiyo-baa was the first to break the awkward silence with a sudden cheerful greeting.

Hinata smiled and replied, "Good morning, Chiyo-baasan." She turned to the Prime Minister, who had a grunting look on his pale face and said, "Good morning, sir." The greeted one replied with a mere nod. He did not seem to be happy with her appearance. Realizing that she was rather unwanted, Hinata remained standing by the wall, several feet away from the table. She looked downwards, letting her fingers play with the edges of her nightgown.

Chiyo-baa, noticing the strange atmosphere between the couple, immediately took over the situation. "Miss Hyuuga, why don't you have a seat here? I don't have any bread this morning, but there is miso soup if you'd like some." The old lady walked over to the table and drew open a chair. Her actions were more ordering than offering, so Hinata had no choice but to obey.

As she sat down, Hinata glanced at the Prime Minister, who was now picking up the newspaper in attempt to continue his reading. He was still in his night gear, Hinata noticed: a white yukata with its collar exposing his upper front torso. Hinata immediately averted her eyes from the sight, blushing, and instead took interest on the PM's breakfast menu; most of it was already gone, but Hinata could figure out from the remains: a bowl of rice, a bowl of miso soup, and a dish of garnished fish along with a cup of green tea. His appetite seemed to be fine.

"I heard you were sick, sir," said Hinata, trying to look at the face that was buried behind sheets of the morning daily.

There was a huff. "Why is everyone making a big fuss over a small headache?" The Prime Minister sounded irritated. "First, Shizune came asking whether she should call a doctor, then Naruto went canceling all my meetings—who the heck does he think he is to do that?—then Sakura and Shika with their showers of lectures," said Sasuke, counting down all of his staff members, "when I got home, Chiyo-baa kept on sending me off to rest." There was a pause. "Then you, Miss Hyuuga, of all people." His eyes showed a hint of anger and distress.

The outburst caused Hinata to shrink slowly in her chair. Soon, a very tense silence hung in the kitchen's air.

"Perhaps," said Hinata in a small voice, breaking the silence, "it means you have a lot of people worried about you, sir." She was still in her hunched up position, glancing nervously at the man in front of her.

There was another silence.

Then, lowering the paper, Sasuke slowly revealed a contemplating look on his face. "Are you," he began, asking in a questioning tone (the subject had somehow developed to be very interesting to him), "worried about me as well, Miss Hyuuga?"

The sharp, inquisitive onyx eyes met wide pearl ones.

Hinata blinked as she realized how her previous sentence had formed a peculiar perception to those who heard it. She uneasily glanced back and forth to the PM and Chiyo-baa (who had stopped washing the dishes to listen to the conversation that, to her as well, had become very interesting). "Well, I—I," Hinata stuttered. Was she worried? Maybe she was, but it was always her nature to be worried and she did not want others to misunderstand her intentions; yet again, she could never blatantly say that she was not worried—that would be a lie, too. Failing to continue, Hinata looked downwards and began to fiddle the cloth covering the table.

Sasuke, who had been waiting for a reply, watched the girl curl forward in anticipation. Knowing that she decided not to answer, Sasuke crossed his eyes and frowned. He did not like dishonest replies and not answering was just as bad. He let out a sigh and thrust the newspaper down on to the empty chair beside him before standing up in a tired attitude. All the talking had made him wary. He tucked in the chair and began to walk away from the table.

"Where are you going?" asked Chiyo-baa, causing the PM to halt right at the kitchen exit way.

The PM stood still for a second as he replied shortly, "Sleep." He then continued to scuff his way to his room with a hand running through his hair.

As soon as the PM disappeared around the corner, Hinata, who was still dumbfounded by the PM's abrupt action, turned to Chiyo-baa and asked in a worried tone, "Did I make him angry?"

Chiyo-baa raised her eyebrows, looking rather amused. "No, not at all," she said with a light chuckle. "It's rather the other way around," she explained, resuming to wash all the dished, "whenever his staff told him to take a rest, he would shrug them off. But you," said Chiyo-baa, with an amused tone, "you managed to force him sleep with just one sentence. Simply amazing." She let out another laugh.

"Is he really sick?" asked Hinata.

Chiyo-baa took a look at the young girl. Hinata was looking at the meal laid out before her, but her eyes were traveling beyond the miso bowl or the tea cup. There was a hint of sadness in those wide, silvery eyes of hers. So she was worried after all, thought Chiyo-baa, smiling inwardly. "I'm afraid so. He's been working on a hectic schedule; he hasn't got time to lie down and relax lately," Chiyo-baa replied. She then grinned. "Were you worried?"

Hinata inhaled and leaned back on to the chair. Her eyes became softer as she said, "My mother died because of a sickness when I was little. I become very aware when someone I know is sick." Hinata smiled sadly at Chiyo-baa. "It's sort of a habit," she added, shrugging lightly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear," said Chiyo-baa. She didn't mean to remind the girl of an unpleasant memory.

Hinata shook her head. "It's okay." She turned around, glancing towards the narrow hallway that separated the kitchen and the bedroom. "I hope he gets well soon."

Hinata then started to eat her breakfast in silence. As she sipped on her soup, she began to think deeply. She took a quick glance at the stove behind Chiyo-baa before asking, "Chiyo-baa, do we have milk in the refrigerator?"

Chiyo-baa cocked an eyebrow at the peculiar question, replying, "I'm afraid not, but I could always call the logistic centre to send us some, if you'd like." Chiyo-baa asked, "Why is that?"

Hinata shrugged and only answered, "Then if you don't mind, I'd like a carton of fresh milk please." She said this beaming widely at the old nanny. "Oh!" said Hinata suddenly as if she just remembered something. "And some light tofu, please. If you don't mind, that is."

"Of course not," said Chiyo-baa, returning the grin with a broad smile of her own. It was nice to have at least one "happy" person in the house, especially after such a somber week.

So by the time Hinata finished her breakfast, her orders were already perched on the mini bar beside the sink. Chiyo-baa asked whether she wanted to keep the milk chilled, but Hinata shook her head, saying that the milk would be fine as it was. Instead, Hinata asked Chiyo-baa to put the tofu in the fridge; she needed it to be cold, she insisted. Chiyo-baa obeyed—though her eyebrows did rise a bit, wondering what the Hyuuga heiress was going to do with the two ingredients. Even so, Chiyo-baa decided to retreat from the kitchen, to give the young girl enough space to brew up whatever she was going to make.

Hinata pondered about the kitchen for approximately twenty minutes: heating the stove, mixing in an amount of sugar and spice, swirling the ingredients with a wooden spoon, and then finally pouring the concoction into a small ceramic bowl on a tray.

As Hinata approached the bedroom with the tray in her hands, she bit her lips nervously, looking down at the small bowl. Perhaps the Prime Minister was mad at her after all; what would she do if that was true? Maybe she should just forget about giving him the bowl of soup, Hinata thought frowning. Or perhaps, he was asleep. That would be better, she thought again, but checking on an ill person would not hurt her, anyways, would it?

Hinata slowly knelt down in front of the bedroom, carefully setting the tray on the floor beside her as she slid open the shoji door. She was half-hoping that the Prime Minister was already asleep so she would not have to talk to him.

But apparently, he wasn't.

Uchiha Sasuke was sitting upright on his futon with his arms folded across his chest. He had been staring at the garden outside, but he instantly glanced when he heard the door open, though he did not fully put his eyes on the girl. He did not say anything; he merely went back gazing at the garden. For a brief second, to Hinata, the lines on the Prime Minister's young face seemed to be deep and he seemed to be so tired.

Hinata entered the room hesitantly with the tray in her hands. "I made something for you, sir." She kneeled again, this time near the futon, and pushed the tray towards the Prime Minister. He turned and glanced at the bowl on the tray, then at Hinata, with a questioning look on his face. Hinata only smiled as she lifted the bowl, handing it to the PM.

Sasuke hesitated for a while. Slowly, he took the bowl from Hinata's hands. Not knowing what to do with it, he sniffed the thick, warm liquid inside of it. It smelled sweet. He frowned slightly—he didn't like sweets, but Hinata gestured him to drink it up, so he obeyed the girl's wish. It was sweet alright—he winced at the taste, but by the second sip, he began to enjoy the warmth that filled his throat, and then there was a surprisingly cool, soothing sensation among the warmth. Amused by the taste, Sasuke pulled the bowl away from his lips and stared at it inquisitively.

"Milk tofu soup," Hinata explained, giving away the answer to Sasuke's unspoken curiosity. "My father usually makes it whenever my sister or I get sick."

Sasuke gave Hinata a funny look. "I never knew a Hyuuga could cook."

"It's a family tradition," said Hinata, haughtily.

Sasuke chuckled lightly. He gradually continued to drink the concoction. By each gulp, he realized that the soup was not merely of sugar; there were bits of almond and there was a hint of cinnamon, and he was sure he tasted a dash of vanilla essence. The spices along with the plain, cold tofu made the taste a bit light that just sweetened milk, which was probably why he could stand the sweetness. As he drained the remaining of the soup, his eyes began to get heavy and he found his self fighting the sudden urge to sleep. He looked at Hinata and asked suspiciously, "You did not drug me, did you?"

Hinata's eyes widened. She shook her head innocently.

The Prime Minister handed the empty bowl back to Hinata as she watched him tuck his self in and curl sideways underneath the white covers of the futon. She smiled, helping him adjust the thin sheets over him. Then in no time, Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke was breathing lightly, apparently fast asleep, right under Hyuuga Hinata's soft gaze. It was her turn to chuckle lightly as she set the empty bowl on to the tray.

Half a teaspoon of shredded, dry chamomile was all he needed.

* * *

Uchiha Sasuke blinked awake. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. Once he figured out that he was lying on his futon in his own room, he glanced sideways. The room was empty, and a bit too dark. He blinked again, as his mind registered the previous events that occurred in his life.

He groaned inwardly.

For all that he remembered was Hyuuga Hinata, the high-school girl acquainted to him, handing him a concoction, which he accepted and consumed. Then within seconds, he had fallen asleep. He suddenly realized the irony in her denial to poisoning him—obviously, there was something worth suspicion in that liquid. Despite that, he felt thankful: the painful pangs were gone, leaving only a bit light feeling in the head, perhaps due to oversleeping.

He blinked once more. What time _was_ it? He sat up slowly, facing the sliding doors that were closed. It seemed dark outside. But surely, he had not slept in till the evening, had he?

Just then, the door to the hallway slid open, silently. A peeking Hyuuga appeared on the other side of it. Sasuke turned slowly to look at her.

"Oh, you're awake, sir," she said in a quiet voice, as if she were speaking in a room filled with sleeping babies.

Sasuke, now fully conscious, pushed the covers away from him and asked, "What time is it?" He then cleared his throat; his voice was awfully hoarse—a proof that he had been sleeping for a really long time.

"Almost dinner time, sir," answered Hinata, still in the same tone she used before. She had not moved an inch from the doorway. Half of her was even still hidden behind the door, with her hand still clenched around the rim of the paper door.

Sasuke glanced at the girl, who now seemed to be confused about what to do. Running a hand through his tousled hair, Sasuke sighed. He had to admit that he was probably confused as well. It was an awkward situation. They both practically never had a moment together alone, aside from the first morning, if that could even count. And to think the last time he ever had a proper conversation with a high school girl was possibly… when he was in high school? For the first time in a very long time, Prime Minister Uchiha Sasuke felt self-conscious and was at loss with words.

After a bizarrely long and pregnant minute of silence, Sasuke winced and decided to get up. "I need a shower." It was true, since he had not washed up at all, now to think about it. Sleeping all day long did not help either; it left a sticky feeling around his neck.

"Oh, okay," replied Hinata, but as Sasuke approached her, she did not budge at all.

"Miss Hyuuga, if you do not move from there, I won't be able to go out," said Sasuke, looking down at the figure that was kneeling in front of the door.

She blinked. Then she snapped up in sudden realization. "Oh, right! I'm terribly sorry," she mumbled, scattering to her feet and looking up at him.

It was yet another odd moment.

It perhaps was only less than two seconds: the moment she looked up at him, he was looking down at her with just a foot of distance between them. Right when his eyes fixed on those silver ones, he paused. She was drowning him, metaphorically. There was something to the depth of her eyes that made him freeze, something unusual, something different. It was not pity, definitely not worry; it was something he could not yet define, but he knew it made his heart skip a beat.

Sasuke flinched.

_Since when did his heart skip beats?_ He made a mental note to visit his cardiologist some time soon.

Fortunately, his flinch caused Hinata to blink, finally breaking their eye contact. She suddenly jumped to life. "I'm—I'm sorry," were the words that sputtered from her mouth. She swiftly moved to the side, allowing Sasuke pass without brushing by.

"Shower," Sasuke mumbled to no one in particular, as he walked past the girl with his hand covering half of his face, still recovering from the momentary shock. But to his respite, as he slid the bathroom door open, he heard a distant relieved huff from down the hallway, signaling that he was not the only one suffering from it.

* * *

Hinata stared at the tableware set out on the table. Chiyo-baa was placing the meal along side the rice bowls, giving them her last touch of perfection. It was a traditional meal again, as usual, rice with garnished fish and soup, this time accompanied by several side dishes, such as pickles, radishes, and ginger. It smelled nice: a bit tangy, but nevertheless pleasing to the olfactory, thought Hinata, smiling happily as she settled at the table.

"Thank you, Chiyo-baachan," said Hinata. She smiled sincerely at the aged cook.

Chiyo-baa returned the smile. "You're welcome, child." Chiyo-baa then tilted her head, and mentioned, "You are happy now, I see. Did you and your friend make up?"

Hinata nodded. "Yes, thanks to your guidance, Chiyo-baachan." Hinata pursed her lips together, considering whether to ask the question that had been swimming in her head for some time now, then decided to utter it anyways. "Chiyo-baa, how long have you known the PM?"

Chiyo-baa cocked an eyebrow. Where was this question leading to? She wondered curiously. "Since I could still call him 'little master'," she replied with a glint of glee in her eyes, reminiscing the old days—the days when she was younger. "You see, I have always been with the Uchiha family, even before young master and little master were born." Hinata tilted her head, figuring that the 'young master' mentioned must be the PM's older brother. "I was with the family when young master decided to leave the house, and I stayed with little master when his parents died in an accident."

Hinata's eyes grew wide. "His parents died in an accident?"

"Yes, a tragic one." Chiyo-baa shook her head in sorrow. "Little master was only twelve." There was a pause, and then Chiyo-baa froze with her eyes wide, staring at a spot behind Hinata.

Sensing the familiar atmosphere, Hinata's eyes grew wide as well, as she turned around to find the Prime Minister standing in the kitchen entrance, right behind her.

The Prime Minister was donned in his usual home attire—a front-torso-revealing white yukata, though this one was fresh, crisp, and crease-free, straight from the ironing stack. He was running a towel through his damp hair; he had just finished his evening shower and was furiously trying to dry his hair. He kept his face straight, even though the two ladies in the room had their attention on him. His slippers made a light scratching sound against the wooden tiles as he moved forward towards the dining table. He slumped into a chair, flinging the towel onto another chair next to him. His hair was left in complete disarray.

"It must be interesting to talk about me when I'm not around," he mumbled in a careless tone, though if looks could kill, there would be two dead corpses in the kitchen at that very moment.

"I was just introducing our history to Miss Hyuuga, since you haven't taken any initiative to do it," said Chiyo-baa cheerfully, placing down the last set of bowls onto the table. She then decided it was time to retreat from the area.

Which left the Prime Minister alone with his fiancée.

Hinata began to pick on the side dishes, choosing several to put on her rice bowl. She neatly peeled the fish flesh away from its vertebrata and stacked it along with the pickles in her bowl. Sasuke watched silently as he subconsciously picked up his own chopsticks to follow.

"So, what did she tell you?" Sasuke started the conversation, casually.

Hinata chewed on her first mouthful of rice, before swallowing. She glanced sideways for a while. She was thinking, thought Sasuke. "Chiyo-baasan told me about your family," was the answer that came in a barely audible volume. "She said she's been with your family for a long time," Hinata elaborated, picking up another ball of rice adorned with bits of fish.

Sasuke nodded, chewing on his chunk of rice. "True," he said, short.

They resumed their dinner in silence. The only sound capable of being heard was the tinkling of the chopsticks. Sasuke was munching calmly through his last chop of sliced cucumber when Hinata stood up and stacked her empty bowls. The sudden movement took Sasuke by surprise as he nearly immediately mimicked the girl's motions.

But Hinata raised her hand to stop him. "I'll clear the table," she offered. She gathered the bowls by the edge of the table and carried the stacks one by one to the sink.

Sasuke blinked. He could get used to this—an unexpected revelation to his self. He slumped in his chair, watching the Hyuuga lean over the sink to turn on the tap. Funny, he thought. Weren't Hyuugas supposed to be served, not serving? He always thought that the riches were not capable of household work. Leaning even deeper into the chair, Sasuke folded his arms in front of him.

"Why are you watching me, sir?"

Sasuke startled.

"Have you never seen a Hyuuga wash the dishes?" she asked again, without even glancing up at him.

Sasuke shrugged. "I guess I haven't," he replied, honestly. "I have underestimated you, Miss Hyuuga," he admitted.

"Hyuugas are trained in many aspects, sir—including traditional ceremonies, business trades, social events, and household chores," she said, chuckling lightly. "The truth does surprise many."

Sasuke nodded, and then remembered. "Speaking of social events, Miss Hyuuga, we have one to attend tomorrow. There's a gala dinner held at the office for the Asia Pacific Union, and the President has asked about you."

"I know," she commented, quietly. When he raised an eyebrow, she explained, "You mentioned it, several nights ago, sir."

"I did?"

Hinata paused; her hand froze on a bowl covered in bubbles. She tilted her head, thinking whether she should mention about it. "You…," she started, glancing over to the table, "…you were drunk, I suppose, sir."

Sasuke's thought flew back to several days ago. He did remember something about having a headache, drinking some sake from the refrigerator, and gazing into a particular pair of tearful eyes, but some parts of the scenes were somewhat blurred. He huffed, realizing the blurred part was probably what caused the hangover that had occurred the following morning. He reminded himself to stay away from alcohol from now on; having memory lapses while reigning wasn't something he planned. Having to take that decision, he merely said, "I see."

There was another length of silence. Apparently, the conversations that happened between the Prime Minister and the high-school girl could not be the spontaneous type. The talks had to be thought over, considered, since the age gap between them was just too wide. Hinata couldn't talk about what was happening at her school to Sasuke, and Sasuke couldn't talk about what was happening at the office to Hinata. What there was left to talk about, were probably things that happened there at the Residence.

"Your bed will be ready tomorrow," Sasuke said, finally finding a proper topic. "I'll get my stuff out from the library by tomorrow morning."

"I know," Hinata replied, softly, resuming rinsing the bowls.

Sasuke was taken aback. He furrowed his eyebrows. "How did you know? I haven't told you yet."

That put Hinata to another pause. She suddenly blushed—her first blush during their evening conversation. "Eh, well, I—I," she stuttered, "was listening when you were talking to Chiyo-baasan this morning, sir." She then busied herself with the rest of the dishes.

"Ah, what a surprise," Sasuke chuckled his trademark low chuckle. "Hyuugas like to eavesdrop." He started to enjoy the conversation—no, what he enjoyed wasn't the conversation, he corrected himself: he enjoyed watching the peculiar Hyuuga go red and fluster. Previously, it had been annoying, but now, it was nothing but interesting. "How shall we spend our last night together, Miss Hyuuga?"

If it were possible, there would probably be steam puffing through the young Hyuuga's ears since her face had gone so hot that she felt like a water kettle filled with boiling water on top of a stove. There was a hint of glee in the Prime Minister's eyes as he watched the girl's face turn beet red. It was as if he were a child who just found out about his Christmas present, playing with it happily—except of course, this Christmas present of his was an extremely shy and embarrassed Hinata.

He nearly forgot that he was almost thirty.

To quote the lyrics of a famous oldies song, it reminded him to the days back when he was still young and wild and free. He could forget that he had a gala dinner waiting for him tomorrow; he could forget that he still had heaps of folders to be reviewed by the end of the weekend; he could forget nearly everything. As the Hyuuga remained silent, Sasuke continued to watch her calmly.

It made him happy.

* * *

"Which one? Which one?"

The question was repeated frequently that afternoon in the finally renewed study room at the Residence. Hinata flopped miserably on top of her new, fluffy white bed. The covers bounced along with the several dresses lied out on top of them. Hinata had packed those few formal evening gowns with her when she moved in to the Residence, but she never thought of actually wearing them. Even when she lived with her family, she rarely went to any social events—she avoided those kinds of meetings as much as possible. Now, not even a couple weeks at the Residence, she was forced to choose one of these ridiculous dresses to wear.

Well, not that they were cheap looking or anything. Out of the three she packed, one was silvery-white, one was black, and the last was deep indigo. The silvery-white was a halter, with an extreme deep-plunging cleavage-baring cut. Hinata remembered that Hanabi was the one who insisted on her buying this dress. Oh, for God's sake, thought Hinata. She didn't even have the body to fit the dress. She wasn't slim enough, and she didn't have the drop-dead sexy figure that would match the dress either.

Next was the black one. This one was quite modest: a regular double, spaghetti-stringed dress that was full-length. The thing was: it had a notorious slit, from the ankle way up to the thighs, and to think that a gala dinner would involve lots of sitting, the slit was bound to slip open. Hinata cringed at the thought. If only it were a standing party.

The last was a knee-length dress with no slits and, or cleavages. It was a simple 60's retro style day dress, with elbow-length sleeves and matching gloves to go with. The material was of thin, light silk satin, which accentuated the body line without revealing any parts of it. Hinata sighed. This was probably the only dress she would actually have guts to wear.

After deciding to wear that retro dress, Hinata stored the other two back into her newly furnished closet. Then she took a step back, glancing around her new bedroom. She remembered the ruckus earlier that day, when her bed at last arrived at the Residence. The Prime Minister did not seem to be happy to see his study emptied out, but he had to be content with it no matter what—there wasn't any other room available. He had his books moved into the personal library area along with the desk and rotating chair. The shelves had to go, but the massive grandfather clock remained in the room. It was a good thing that the chimes no longer functioned.

Hinata glanced at the clock, found her self shocked at how fast time passed by, and hurriedly stripped off her clothes. She unzipped the indigo dress and then pulled it on. She must have lost several pounds during her stay at the Residence since the dress seemed to be a bit loose at several spots. She tried to pull the zipper that was on the back close, but failed to reach it.

Hinata frowned.

She then turned to the mirror on her dresser and began to brush her hair. A twist would do, she thought, taking out several hairpins from her school bag. She didn't have any mousse or hairspray, but she did have enough pins to hold her hair into a firm, neat, single bun at the back of her head. She pondered on the necessity of make-up and decided that she wouldn't have time to put on a full-fledged do. She ended up only adding lip-gloss to her looks.

Hinata sighed. She still had to pull up the zipper.

Hinata twisted her arm in an odd way, and then stretched out her fingers. She could feel the head of the zipper. She tugged on it slightly. It moved upwards several millimeters, but then stopped. Hinata frowned deeper and huffed. She tugged on the zipper harder, before realizing that it had caught on the fabric of the dress. Hinata froze.

Right then, there was a voice from outside the bedroom door. "Miss Hyuuga, are you ready yet?" It was the Prime Minister.

Sasuke had been waiting for twenty minutes now. He was pretty sure that he told Hinata that he was expecting her to be ready by five, but fifteen minutes to the arranged time, there had been no sound of progress or effort from inside her bedroom, so Sasuke decided to check on her.

Hinata frantically replied, "Almost! I'm almost ready, sir!" She desperately tugged on the zipper, but it wouldn't budge at all.

Another ten minutes passed, and Hinata wasn't making any improvement with the zipper.

Sasuke rapped on the door, and asked impatiently, "Miss Hyuuga, are you dressed yet?"

Hinata was flabbergasted. "Yes," she called out, adding quickly, "but—"

Apparently, she wasn't quick enough.

The door immediately slid open, revealing a very irritated Sasuke, who right away asked, "What's taking so long?"

Hinata snapped around, turning away from the mirror and hiding the problematic zipper. From the front, she looked perfectly fine: her hair was kept in a simple twist; her dress was wrinkle-free; so what could possibly be holding her back? "I—I," Hinata stuttered at the Prime Minister, who was now eyeing her curiously. "I am not done with a few details…"

"You look fine, Miss Hyuuga," said Sasuke, moving forward, tempted to drag Hinata out from the room. He was honest: Hinata did look fine. "Stunning, actually," he corrected himself. The dress that wasn't too tight or too loose gave Hinata's odd curves a beautiful accent.

"Wai—wait a moment, sir," Hinata backed away from the Prime Minister, with both of her hands trying to separate them apart. "I'm not ready yet."

Then Sasuke noticed the problem. The reflection on the mirror behind Hinata gave it away. There was a slit at the back of her dress. Her zipper was stuck. No wonder, thought Sasuke.

"Miss Hyuuga," he said, lightly, "turn around."

"Eh?" The Prime Minister's request surprised Hinata. She shook her head mildly. "No, no, no."

"It's okay," Sasuke said, motioning Hinata to turn around. He practically pushed her right shoulder, obliging her to turn the other way. "I'm quite an expert on stuck zippers," he muttered, examining the crisis. He took her by the hand and led her to the bed, allowing her to take a seat there. Reaching into his tuxedo's chest pocket, he drew out a Parker pen and plucked the cap open.

He began to tweak on the zipper with the tip of the pen.

Hinata was completely self-conscious. She was allowing a man to stare at her bare back. Aware of this, she could actually feel her ears grow red. As an addition, a somewhat distorted thought of how the Prime Minister came to become an expert on stuck zippers started to form in her mind.

"You know, I've been thinking, Miss Hyuuga," Sasuke said, still focusing on the zipper. "You've been at the Residence for a week now, but we have barely got an opportunity to get to know each other." Bits of the caught cloth managed to release itself from the troublesome zipper. "I doubt that we'd have time at all to talk much about ourselves…"

Hinata nodded. She felt less awkward now that the Prime Minister was talking. She mentally shook out the previous perverted ideas about the PM from her head.

"So, how will we ever know enough about each other by the time my brother comes?"

Hinata tilted her head as she listened to the Prime Minister. "Well… maybe, we don't have to tell our history by ourselves." Hinata rested her hands in her lap. "We could—I could ask Chiyo-baa about you, sir."

"And who should I ask about you, Miss Hyuuga?"

"My family, I suppose," Hinata replied, but then considered. "But I guess you wouldn't have time to do so. I suppose we could write it down, like writing a story about ourselves."

"Somewhat like a lifetime resume? A curriculum vitae?"

Hinata nodded. "Yes, something like that, sir."

There was one final tug on the zipper, and then it was done. Sasuke patted on his work, saying, "There, it's done."

Hinata turned around to face the Prime Minister. "Thank you, sir."

It was the first time that evening Hinata got a good look of the Prime Minister. He had stood up, straightening out his attire: a full tuxedo, with a bowtie and tails. There was something different about him in this outfit. Later, Hinata noticed that it was that the tuxedo was black, a nice change from the Prime Minister's usual deep indigo. The tux matched Sasuke's dark hair perfectly, giving him a prominent aura.

"You look very nice, sir," Hinata said, half-blinking at the words she said. She then blushed.

"Thank you," Sasuke replied curtly, not knowing what else to say. He tucked his pen back into his pocket. "Perhaps, we should try that CV thing."

Hinata nodded again, this time, standing up.

"So." The tone in Sasuke's voice was oddly relieved. "We should get going, Miss Hyuuga."

The Prime Minister held out his hand, offering it to the young lady, who accepted it, naturally linking her arm around his as they both stepped out from the bedroom together to attend the dreaded gala dinner with the Asia-Pacific Union President.

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: I have to admit, I wrote parts of this chapter a year ago, separated by the line breaks, and other parts, more recently. So, it might be a bit weird. Anyways, review please! Thank you for reading.


	8. Chapter 7

**Pre-note: **Do you guys have the faintest idea on how hard it is to continue writing this fanfic when the actual characters in the Naruto series have developed drastically over the past year? xDDD blame it on me for not being able to catch up. Oh, I graduated last month! But even so, I can't guarantee chapters will be coming regularly. Sorry, guys.

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, verbal profanities

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 7 – An Evening at the Office**

o

* * *

"I'm sure you've been to a gala dinner before, haven't you?"

Hinata glanced at the PM, who just questioned her, then replied with a single nod. They were both seated in the state limousine, side by side though nearly four feet apart. Hinata was leaning towards a window, while the PM was leaning towards the other side of the car. It wasn't like they were allergic to each other or anything. It was just easier to sit that way, trapped in the corners of the car instead of sitting upright and uptight in the middle of the long leather seat.

"Good," the PM continued. "Then I assume you know that it's going to be extremely boring."

Hinata's lips curled into a small smile. "But sometimes the food is worth it." She rested her gloved hands in her lap.

"Sure. If you manage to eat anything, that is," the PM said, making a face. He huffed. "I'm usually too busy shaking hands to even check the menu. A glass of wine is as lucky as I can get."

Hinata turned sideways, facing the PM. "I believe my cousin once said something like that as well," she said, amused. "He practically runs the company," she elaborated, figuring the PM wouldn't know the particular Hyuuga Neji. "So, he attends more dinners than I do."

"Does he?" Uchiha Sasuke lifted an eyebrow. He also turned sideways, so he and Hinata were now facing each other. "I thought your father was head of the company."

Hinata nodded again. "He is," she answered, emphasizing he statement with a light gesture of her hand, "but he doesn't do much of the field work anymore; he's getting old. He usually stays in his office, watching the stock exchange on his monitor."

"Hyuugas play dirty."

"No, it's not like that. Father just wants Neji-niisan to be ready to lead the company. That's all."

Sasuke tilted his head in contemplation. "Does that mean you're not going to inherit the company?" he asked. "You are the eldest among the Hyuuga daughters in the main family, after all," he added, pointing out.

There was a brief silence, then Hinata shrugged and replied quietly, "I never thought of it that way: me, becoming CEO of the company." Hinata actually flinched. "Neji-niisan's doing a great job at it," she said, though she felt a shiver run down her spine as she remembered every cold glance that cousin of hers had ever given her. "He's doing a great job," she reconfirmed, "so, he deserves the position. I'm not good at stuff like that anyways."

"Stuff like what?"

"Running the company, et cetera."

"Ever tried it before?"

"No."

"Then at least give it a shot first, before finalizing your opinion," Sasuke said, haughtily, as he folded his arms. "Your father must have certain expectations for you. He's probably afraid to mention about it, since you haven't mentioned about it."

There was silence.

Sasuke felt Hinata eyeing him oddly: she had an eyebrow cocked his way, not out of fury, but maybe curiosity. Had he gone too far? Perhaps he had interfered too much into the Hyuuga family business. Sasuke sighed inwardly. He gradually noticed that his words were notions of an older person; Hinata possibly thought of him as some old wart, trying to advise an inexperienced kid. Sasuke hid a cringe. He didn't mean to tell off; he, himself, never liked being told off.

The relationship between the Prime Minister and the Hyuuga princess was probably never going to work.

So the answer he got minutes later surprised him.

"I'll think about it," the girl said, turning away.

Amazed, Sasuke's eyebrows involuntarily raised for a fleeting moment. He couldn't manage his expression for a while, but then the edge of his lips formed an awkward smile. (Well, how could he help it? He hadn't smiled in a very long time.) Resting his chin on his palm as he leaned into the arm rest, Sasuke grinned inwardly. He was looking out the window, where other cars were whizzing by, but his eyes were actually fixed on his own reflection: there was an odd self-satisfactory feeling beaming from his mirror image, and he knew pretty much where it came from.

* * *

"The President will be sitting over there, while you and the Prime Minister will be sitting at the table beside him. But before that, the President and the PM, and you, will make an entrance from the hallway to the dining area, so we need you to get ready. You can wait in the Office if you'd like—it's easier for us, that way, anyways. We'll get someone to fetch you once the procession starts."

Hinata nodded, rather blindly. She blinked.

Haruno Sakura, who had been pointing out the protocols to the young girl, paused to take a glance back. "Was I too fast?"

Hinata jumped. "No!" She shook her head. "Not at all." She blinked again.

Glancing downwards from the balcony she stood on, Hinata could see the whole dining area in one vista. Sure, she had been to many dinners before, gallant ones as well, but those were nothing compared to this. The area was much smaller than the ballroom in a local Hyuuga Hotel, the decorations were just made in monochrome washed white, but the aura of the room was overwhelming. This was what defined an exclusive, high-classed gala dinner perfectly.

White banners hung from the ceiling, barely touching the floor, forming pillars in efficient spots, matching the white-covered circular dining tables arranged throughout the room. Each table was ornamented with crystal wine glasses, fine cutlery and silver and translucent white porcelain. The chairs were also draped in white, with even whiter ribbons accentuating the backs. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling sparkled, not over-lighting, but not too dim either. There was also a small stage, filled with orchestra instruments, waiting for the players to strike them. The people down there, all men, were dressed in black tuxedos, a contrast to the background, causing them to stand out.

"Magnificent, isn't it?"

Hinata looked at the spokeswoman, and then nodded. "Yes, it's very beautiful."

"Well, you must be used to these things," Sakura said, waving her hand in the air to illustrate the situation. "You're a Hyuuga, anyway."

"But this is really extraordinary," Hinata insisted. "Everything is very elegant, and simply beautiful."

"The Prime Minister's taste," Sakura stated, rolling her eyes. She ticked her fingers, saying, "Elegant, simple, and beautiful." Sakura began to lead the way again. As they made their way down the hallway, she added, "You know, the Prime Minister is a good man. He might be a bit irritating to some point, but he is a good man."

Hinata contorted, obviously not understanding the sudden change of subject.

"Ah," Sakura said, realizing that she had to explain the reason she was talking about that certain man. "Well, you see, he might not be able to express what he means in straight words, but he does worry about a lot of things. He might seem to be tactless and cold, but he actually thinks about the best for everyone. He's—," Sakura paused, noticing the blank expression in Hinata's eyes, "oh, well, let's just say he's a good man and just get done with it."

The two passed several doors down the aisle without saying anything.

"I know," Hinata said, after a while. She thought of the little conversation she had with the Prime Minister in the limo. Honestly, she hadn't felt offended by the Prime Minister's words; his advice actually gave her extra spirits: she always wanted to study business and marketing, but never had the nerve to enter that world. "He's a very accomplished and experienced man. He's a bit bitter," she admitted, "but he's a good man, I guess." Hinata then looked at Sakura. "Do you admire him, Miss Haruno?"

The woman with pink hair blushed. "Yes," was the reply, stuttered, but then was quickly added with, "I mean, not in a romantic way, but I really like him for the person he is. It's a great thing that this country is being led by a guy like him." Sakura firmly said, "He's a person I look up to."

The spokeswoman then shoved Hinata into the PM's office and closed the door, leaving her alone.

* * *

Hinata stood beside the PM as the procession proceeded according to the protocol. There were several blitzes as photographers of the Office took their picture, but then the photographers soon left the area since the dinner event itself was off limits.

It turned out not to be as hard as Hinata thought it would be. After a couple of handshakes (including a very, very enthusiastic one from the President of the Asia Pacific Union) and a couple wine glasses of a curious non-alcoholic beverage (Hinata suspected an odd mix of passion fruit, bananas, and lemon juice), the Prime Minister steered her to a corner inhibited by a pot plant—a mini palm tree—and a settee. The PM then glanced around in search of guests that he hadn't greeted yet, and with that, he left Hinata to enjoy her evening: alone.

But not before saying, "Just stay here."

Not that Hinata was disappointed with that: she had a plate of adorned sushi and lightly grilled sashimi to accompany her, not to mention another plate filled with macaron and chocolate xeus puffs, and her wine glass was still half-filled. Plus, the last hour had been quite an experience and exhausting. If she were to continue for another five minutes, she would probably pass out in midst of the foreign guests. Poking her tiny fork into a salmon nigiri sushi, she wondered why in the world they served the cuisine with forks, instead of the traditional chopsticks, and how the Prime Minister would possibly manage to resume entertaining his company for another one and a half hour.

An hour was reasonable and possible, even for Hinata, but two-and-a-half hours? It was simply irrational, or at least to Hinata, it was. After an hour, Hinata would usually run out of things to talk about and then turn her attention to the linings of her shirt and start to fidget.

Hinata dipped the sushi into a blob of soy sauce before savoring it in her mouth.

She set gaze on the opposite side of the room which was occupied by the Prime Minister and a few other fellows of his echelon. As she took another bite of the sushi, she blinked. Her eyes were playing tricks on her.

The Prime Minister was smiling. And laughing.

Hinata forgot to chew for a moment. When she overcame the surprise, she nearly spat the contents of her mouth back onto her plate, frowning. Apparently, she had absentmindedly smothered the bits of salmon into a heap of wasabi. Her nose stung. She blinked again several times to get rid of the tears that formed in her eyes due to the green herbal paste.

But the illusion of the Prime Minister smiling and charming the guests did not disappear from her sight, which could only mean one thing: it was real.

The sight dazzled Hinata.

He looked quite good in his daily indigo wear; tonight, he looked powerful in his black tuxedo. A lock of raven hair rebelled against the sleekly combed tresses, falling across his forehead, somehow accentuating the look on his face. Instead of the usual stiff shoulders, he had a hand in his slack pockets while the other was holding onto his wine glass. Once in a while, he would take the pocketed hand to shake another's, or to make gestures that emphasized his speech. He seemed relaxed.

This was his domain.

His presence, the way he stood, declared that he was the man in charge that night.

Hinata remained where she sat, but her gaze fell to her plate, even though the luxurious seafood no longer intrigued her hunger. She fell into contemplation. She wished she could hear what the group of men on the other side of the room was talking about. She was curious about what such important people would talk about at a dinner. She wondered what the Prime Minister would reply at their inquiries. She wanted to know what it was that could actually make him smile, like that, that natural, nonchalant laugh that made his shoulder shake. It looked nice on him, Hinata thought, the smile that is. There were creases just along the corners of his lips that made him just more… human.

The taste of wasabi still lingered in the far edge of Hinata's mouth.

She needed a beverage refill.

* * *

They were talking about the recent crisis, actually. The President of the United States was mentioning that they have, so far, managed to stabilize their economy, though the remnants of the crisis was still loitering. The President of the Republic of South Korea agreed, and mumbled that it would take at least about another five years to get the amount of exports to match the number of those from the past year—a statement soberly nodded to by the rest of the pack, though several other head of states weren't as optimistic: they had placed their targets as soon as, at least, another eight years. Uchiha Sasuke then lightly joked, well, at least, they weren't the ones to blame for the crisis, which was true since most of the head of states attending were relatively newly appointed leaders, and history would write them as the ones that brought their nations back to glory.

The joke invited laughs from the crowd, and optimism was restored.

Sasuke smiled. He had the loud bunch under his control. Annoying as they were, still, these people were those of the highest influence, and he himself as leader of an export-oriented, dumping politics-based nation needed this lot. They were his country's market target. He had to assure them that his nation's goods would still sell in their countries, even during the hard times like now. He had to keep their spirits high.

Satisfied on how the conversation was going, Sasuke took a quick sip of his wine whilst glancing around the vast ballroom. The Filipinos seemed to be awed at the magnificent giant dragon, made out of frozen blowfish cuts, over at the sushi table. The Canadians were standing nearby, filling their glasses with more wine. The Chinese seemed extremely bored for some reason, though they sought distraction through an ancient raku vase in the far corner of the room. And just by that couple was a familiar palm tree… with no one sitting on the sofa beside it.

Sasuke jolted in alert.

From where he was standing, he could still figure out the plates lying on the coffee table beside the sofa, with the food only half-eaten, but the possessor of the plates had vanished. He hissed and muttered a curse under his breath. He was sure that he warned the girl not to move from that spot earlier.

Sasuke immediately excused himself from his group.

* * *

At times like these, when the Prime Minister was busy entertaining others in the ballroom, he would usually hang back in his small cubicle. He was the Chief of Staff, Nara Shikamaru. Propping his covered feet onto his desk, he leaned back into his rotating chair. The head rest tilted back against his weight. He stared at the ceiling that was adorned with long, fluorescent, energy-saving lamps. No one else was in the office. Most of the people were either attending the dinner, or simply have gone home.

But he had to stay.

It was his duty, after all, to accompany the Prime Minister wherever and whenever. He was the one whom the PM would seek advise, and he was the one in control of the whole Office, actually.

How troublesome, he thought. Even marriage didn't require a 24/7 companionship or an every second on-call status.

Thinking of marriage, his thought wavered, and landed on a tugging desire to pull out his wallet. He only did that when he was alone. His hand fell to the pocket in his trousers, finding the lump that signaled the presence of his pouch of money. He frowned for a brief second, glancing around at the abandoned working space. He reluctantly got up from his spot.

He sought for a room in the corner. This room was even smaller than his cubicle: only about a meter wide. The only thing available in that room was an ash tray, which fulfilled his dire needs of the moment.

His hands instantly slipped into his pocket, and reemerged with his wallet. His fingers masterfully toyed with the folds of the leather and pried out a thin, white cigarette. He always kept only one cigarette in his wallet, instead of taking a whole box with him: he knew he wouldn't be able to stop if he had a whole box; he'd probably consume all fourteen in one smoke. Thus he came up with a tactic of his own: one would be enough to quench his desire and small enough to tuck into his wallet.

But the opened wallet took his mind to another place.

He stood there, staring at the picture in his wallet, while toying with the filtered end of the cigarette with his teeth. His first reaction was to smile along with the faces in the picture, but then the smile dissolved into a frown, thinking of the particular blonde and brunet in the picture. A smile made its way to his face again, only this time it came up sour.

Shika fished for his lighter in his inner breast pocket and clicked it against the cigarette.

The white paper crackled slowly, emitting thin smoke from its end.

The sweetened filter gradually shifted to a slightly bitter taste, the way Shika liked it, as the tobacco burned.

He snapped his wallet shut and stuffed it back into his pocket. Those days etched into the photograph were over. He was the one that ended them. The decision had been his to make, and he chose the life he led today. He frowned again. If someone had a problem with, then that was their problem, not his. But thinking of the color brown, the perfect mix of black and gold, he couldn't help feel that tiny twinge of pain in his heart.

Ah, his younger days rolled alive in his thoughts. Now he just wished he hadn't been so reckless back then.

All the bother it caused him today, he thought as he took one last draw of the toxin, was just troublesome. Simply troublesome.

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: Shika appeared! Fans of Nara Shikamaru, rejoice! I can assure you that he plays quite a big role in this fan fiction and his own story will roll along with Sasu-Hina's. Reviews, rants, raves, flames, whatever, are very much welcome. Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 8

**Pre-notes:** Got this done early! Audriel has been so nice, willing to beta and edit, despite being busy with her finals. Props to her!

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 8 – Friends?**

o

* * *

Sasuke tried to hold back the rush of anxiety as he scanned the large ballroom, but there was no hint of the silk indigo dress anywhere: not by the catering tables, not by the white pillars, not by the tall windows, not by the doors, …not even by the shady corners where he expected her to be! Sasuke cursed inwardly. How hard was it, really, to obey his words to stay put?

He gave a passing-by gentleman a curt nod, and excused himself from any guest that tried to engage him into a conversation.

Sasuke was almost at the door, when he spotted a familiar pink-haired female. "Haruno," he called.

The spokeswoman looked up from an old lady she was talking to, to appoint the PM. "Sir!"

Sasuke paused and blinked once. Haruno looked a bit different tonight. She was wearing a very daringly red shanghai dress, with slits that nearly showed the whole length of her thigh. Sasuke made an enormous effort to suppress to excited jolts that accumulated in his mind due to the exposed tanned skin. The woman surely knew how to flaunt her assets. "You look…," Sasuke searched for the right word—_sexy_ would be too bold, _enticing_ was out of the question, "…stunning, Miss Haruno."

Haruno beamed. "I'm fishing for foreigners," she leaned over, replying in a hushed tone. She then straightened up and glanced at the PM. "What are you doing here, sir? Aren't you supposed to be discussing the Toyota contract with President?"

"I was," Sasuke admitted. "Turns out to be rather useless. I'll need to speak to Nara about that, but meanwhile," he ducked and spoke with a lower voice, "have you happened to see Miss Hyuuga?"

Haruno's eyes widened as she excused herself from the old lady and steered the PM towards the doorway. "No," she answered, whispering back. "Has anything happened?"

Sasuke shook his head, but he didn't feel relieved. "Not yet," he mentioned, trying to look as nonchalant to his surroundings as possible, "but I forgot to warn her that only the ballroom and the office area are press-free."

* * *

Hinata stumbled with a glass in her hand. She placed her other hand on front of her to brace her fall, but she did not really topple over. This was funny, she thought. There must be an earthquake going on: the floor seemed to float and she felt like flying. She finally found something to grasp on. It took her a while before she realized that it was a colonial-styled balcony railing. She leaned heavily onto the railings as the world around her began to tilt forward.

She nearly lurched before she noticed that she was a couple flights above the ground.

"Whoa, that was close," she muttered out loud to one in particular.

Her knees slowly gave away and she slid into an awkward sitting position on the marble floor. She lazily looked around and found that she was all alone on a deserted balcony, except for several potted palm trees and a few immobile statues. She could hear classical music playing from afar. The sight of the palm trees reminded her of something, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She looked down and saw that her dress was wrinkled. She shrugged, not giving it a thought. There was no one around, after all.

She looked up and saw the stars glittering in the open, evening sky above her. They seemed to be winking and blinking happily at her. Hinata smiled. The thought of floating among thousands of stars calmed her, gradually, but when she glanced up again, the stars oddly formed a constellation of her father's figure. She frowned. Thinking of her father made her feel sad, not just because of the fight they had before she left, but also because she missed him. He might be cold-hearted and strict when it came to making decisions for her, but he was always a great father, nonetheless. Hinata felt a tear dribble against her cheek as she glanced up against the sky.

The stars had somehow shifted. They now reminded her of the Prime Minister, with his unruly black hair and his stern face. Several stars had lined up to match the constant wrinkles on his forehead and a few others had formed the frown that always adorned the young man's face. Hinata had been staring at this phenomenon for a while when the clouds moved, causing the frown to disappear and a star to twinkle at the spot that was to be the PM's eye.

The new facial expression reminded Hinata of a fable character in the story Alice in the Wonderland. What was the name of the cat, again?

Bastard?

No, it started with a C.

Custard?

Caesar?

Cheshire?

Yes, that seemed right. Cheshire the Cat. This late summer's constellation should be named Cheshire.

Hinata laughed at the clumsiness of her current mind. She reached out for her glass, but her vision swayed and her grip missed the glass by a wide five inches. She sat there, amused now at her physical clumsiness, and then laughed again.

* * *

"She's drunk."

When the Prime Minister himself called in to request help from him, Shikamaru immediately went into alert mode. The fiancée had vanished, so said the curt report from the PM. Uchiha was a man of pride and Shika knew that the man hated to seek for help, but he did anyways, so Shika did not have the heart to reject the request, though if he were to choose, he would rather lock himself for another hour in the smoking room than having to be part of the SAR team.

And when Shika found the missing attendee, slumped against the railings of the ballroom balcony, he dialed the PM's private number right away.

"How drunk?" The voice on the other end did not sound quite pleased.

"Err," Shika hesitated. He looked down at the half-conscious girl.

She glared back at him. "I'm not drunk," she insisted, though the half-empty glass beside her reeked of alcohol. Suddenly she laughed as if she remembered something funny. "You know, sir," she said, quite loudly, "your hair looks like a palm tree."

That gave Shika an easier way to explain the situation. "She said my _hair_ looks like a _palm tree_," he muttered in report to the PM.

The girl giggled again. She nodded. "Like the palm tree over there," she added, pointing at the tropical plant in a pot nearby.

Shika only gave the herb a fleeting glance before turning to the cell phone. "There you have it, sir," he said, shortly, ending his report.

The PM was quite furious. He ordered for the girl to be immediately transported to his office—"if possible, avoid passing through the ballroom and the front hall," he specifically noted. Shika was aware of this: the guests were in the ballroom, and the front hall was where the Office photographers and reporters gathered, and the PM did not want any of those groups to be aware that his underage fiancée had been drinking, so Shika discretely led the girl through the dimmed hallways of the Office and by the time they reached the PM's quarters, he was practically dragging the girl by her collar.

Shika thrust the girl forward, eager to get rid of her. "Here you go, sir," he said to the awaiting PM, who was standing by his desk with his arms crossed.

"How did this happen?" the Uchiha asked, warily eyeing the girl, who was now feebly approaching the cushions of the sofa set in the middle of the office. She flopped contently on the settee, completely unaware of the angry sparks flying from the PM.

"Sir," she mumbled, with a drowsy smile on her face, "has anyone ever mentioned that you look like Cheshire the Cat?"

The question hung in the silent air for a moment before it was replaced by the soft hums of light snoring. The girl had fallen asleep.

The PM shut his eyes briefly. "How did this happen, again?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Shika instantly lifted the half-emptied wine glass in his hand as a proof of his innocence. "I believe she drank the wrong sort of refreshing, sir," he replied.

Both the PM and the Chief of Staff eyed on the purplish-red liquid in the glass and figured out the incident right away. There were two types of punch served that night: non-alcoholic tropical fruit punch and alcohol-induced sherry punch. The PM had made sure before he left that he handed the girl the non-alcoholic beverage, but apparently after he left, no one gave the girl a warning about the existence of the other punch.

"Next time we hold events like this, remind me to tell the catering to not serve any kind of punch anymore, Shika," Sasuke said, sighing.

"Yes, sir," Shika replied, curtly. "Next time, it'll be either white wine or milk."

Sasuke snickered at the comment. "At least it'd be pretty obvious which one's alcoholic, that way." He shook his head in light disbelief that things like this could actually happen.

"You should return to the dinner, sir," Shika said, walking back to the doorway.

The PM nodded, willing to obey the Chief of Staff's advice, but paused as he approached the door. He stopped by the hanger at the corner, fetched a spare suit hanging there, released it of its hanger, and walked back to the sleeping figure of the young Hyuuga. He spread the suit on top of her, covering a good portion of her feminine stature, before heading to where the other man was waiting for him. He then said, as if nothing happened before, "The United States has declined our request to increase its automotive imports."

The Nara raised an eyebrow. The leap of the conversation's subject was quite far and the PM's previous actions did not slip from his eyes. "Only expected, sir," he muttered, which was an ambiguous comment—it could be aimed at the PM's words, or moves. "Their own automotive industry is on the verge of collapsing. I suppose they'd want to stabilize themselves on the inside before turning to outside offers. Accepting our offers would only seem to be betraying their local industries at the time they need support the most."

The PM agreed. "We'll have to tell our industries to increase investments in regional factories, focusing on southern and Southeast Asia," he mumbled, fixing a loose button at his wrist. "It's amazing that the automotive markets in those regions are actually growing exponentially in times like these."

"Can't help it, can they, sir?" said Nara. "Those stuck in the Newtonian era can't help but be consumptive."

The two most influential men, politic-wise, of the nation strode their way through the halls and took one final turn that led them back to the ballroom.

"She said I looked like Cheshire the Cat."

There was a chuckle.

"I beat you at that one, Uchiha," Nara said, dropping all courtesies as he opened the doors for the PM. "She said I look like a palm tree. Now _that _is epic."

* * *

Hinata was swirling in a big pool of water, when it seemed like someone pulled an invisible plug at the bottom of the pool, causing the water to turn into a vicious tornado. She felt like she was being spun, twisted, and wrung out all at once and there was this faint banging at the side of her head that wouldn't stop, that awfully sounded like her…

…alarm clock.

Hinata instantly shot up and opened her eyes.

The sudden movement did funny things to her stomach, making her feel sick at the moment. She clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back the contents of her stomach. She absentmindedly tapped her other hand heavily against her alarm clock to stop the noise. She took a deep breath before blinking and looking at her surroundings.

She was in her room at the Residence. The morning sun was shining brightly through the paper doors. She blinked again as she pushed back the covers. She was wearing her regular white night gown. She blinked again.

Hinata tried to remember what happened. Her mind went blank. She vaguely remembered going to the dinner event, and then sitting in a corner, but after that it was as if someone had erased her memory.

She had a peculiar image of a palm tree and a grinning cat running through her mind, though, somehow.

Hinata wriggled herself free of the covers.

"Finally awake?"

The familiar masculine voice made her jump. The PM was leaning against the door frame, looking at her with a bored expression on his face. A tie was in his left hand, while his right hand was buttoning the cuffs of his linen shirt. It was not his presence that made Hinata aware of herself; it was more of the way he laid his eyes on her: it was as if he was peering at her through a microscope, studying each of her organs, as if she were a naked specimen…

She snapped at that. "My dress!" she gasped, remembering that last night she obviously did not change into her night gown by herself.

"I changed it for you," the PM stated matter-of-factly. He hid the urge to chuckle as he watched Hinata's expression fail her.

Hinata felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

"You're an interesting thing to watch while you're sleeping, Miss Hyuuga," the PM continued, now circling his tie around the back of his collar. He gave the tie a casual tug on the ends to balance its length. "You toss and turn a lot when you sleep." He tilted his head sideways, as if thinking of something else to say. "You also say lots of things when you're unconscious. Rather shamelessly, too." He then gave the Hyuuga his trademark smirk. "Quite the opposite of the real you, Miss Hyuuga."

Hinata covered her face with both hands.

"Or perhaps you suffer a double-personality case."

Hinata buried her head in a pile of white fluffy pillows. She threw the covers back on top of her, letting it cocoon herself as she drowned in embarrassment.

Sasuke heard a muffled cry from under the layer of frilled linens, but couldn't decipher the words, so he said, "What, Miss Hyuuga? I can't hear you clearly."

"You changed my clothes!" she repeated, poking her head out from beneath the layers. Her face was of an obvious shade of red.

"Why, of course," the PM calmly replied.

"How could you?"

There was a pause in the semi-conversation. Hinata heard the shuffling of the feet as the PM approached the mirror by her wardrobe closet. He tilted his head back, eyeing his reflection, as he started to knot his tie. "It was either that," he muttered, lightly, "or you'd be sleeping, drenched in your own drool and vomit, Miss Hyuuga."

The PM winced inwardly, remembering the incidents that occurred the night before. Once he managed to get the girl back to the Residence, she had stirred and made a horrible noise that could not be mistaken: the side effects of over-drinking were kicking in. The PM had to carry the girl to the bathroom and let her bend over the toilet as she began to barf unceremoniously. It was already past midnight by that time, and Chiyo-baasan had already gone home, so there was no other option, except for the PM to clean up after her. He actually was reluctant to change her clothes, but he couldn't stand the stench, and being his clean-freak and in-order self, he decided to do the deed.

It was not like he saw her completely naked anyway. He did not have the nerve to change her undergarments, and it was pretty tough just changing her gown: she had tossed, turned, kicked, punched, and slapped around ungracefully all the while being unconscious. It turned out to be quite a battle. Sasuke actually considered himself lucky to still be alive after the whole incident.

But handling the young Hyuuga that night reminded him of himself, about a decade ago, when he got his own first dibs of liquor. From the tales that Chiyo-baa often told him, he used to have a similar reaction to alcohol as this young lady did.

Hinata paled slightly. "I threw up?"

"I'm sure you'd appreciate my efforts," the PM said, twisting the wide end of the tie into the knot. He gave the tie one final tug then arranged its position precisely in between the two folds of his collar.

His words made Hinata blush again. She hid beneath the covers again.

"Miss Hyuuga," Hinata heard him call. She heard rustles, then realized that the PM was trying to pull the covers away from her grip. She resisted.

He sighed.

Then the mattress dipped against his weight, and she knew that he was sitting right beside her on the bed. Oh, this was even worse, she thought, frantically.

She whimpered.

"Miss Hyuuga, I just want to ask you something." He sounded pretty exasperated, though there was a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Slowly she allowed the covers to be pulled away, showing only her face up to her nose. She blinked at the brightness of the room then turned up to look at the PM.

He paused and took a good look at her as well, before asking, "Just how many shots of sherry punch does it take to knock you out?" When her face remained blank, he revised the question. "How many refills did you drink last night after I left you?"

The question sank in slowly as her mind tried to think. "I think," she answered, hesitantly, "I drank two glasses."

The look on the PM's face was thoroughly amused.

"I don't remember much," Hinata admitted, sheepishly. She only remembered choosing the beverage from among three decanters that seemed to be filled with the same kind of liquid. She had wondered a little when she tasted the slightly bitter tang, but thought nothing of it. Bitterness, apparently, was an evident sign of fermentation, something that must have slipped her mind back then. She scolded herself for being so naïve, so stupid at such an important moment.

When the PM reached out a hand to her, her initial reaction was to flinch and duck back under the covers, but soon she realized the large hand only landed on the top of her head and ruffled through her hair. It was a brief, affectionate gesture—the next moment, the PM had already stood up and was heading out—but it was enough to make Hinata widen her eyes in surprise.

No one had ever done that to her before.

As close as she was to her father, he was not the warm and cuddly type of person. Neji definitely did not play the role of the nice older brother, and Hanabi… well, if her younger sister were ever to touch her, it would either be a spank in the behind or a bribing massage.

"Thank you," Hinata blurted out in the spur of the moment, not sure if her gratitude was aimed at the incident last night or at the small gesture the PM just made. Both, she decided, meant a lot to her.

The PM paused right in front of the doorway, with his hands in the slack pockets of his trousers. He turned around. "I believe," he said, his eyes squinting slightly, recalling something of the past, "I've been drunk in your presence once, Miss Hyuuga. I also remember being under your care several days ago." He licked his lips lightly as his sight wandered, before refocusing on the girl who was now sitting up among the untidy covers of her bed. All the whiteness of the vista did funny things to his eyes. "So why don't we call it even now, Miss Hyuuga?"

The blush on Hinata's face subsided as she broke into a wide smile. "Yes, sir, of course," was her reply, but the look on her face said more. Her old habit came back: her fingers started to fidget. She seemed to be hesitant for a moment, but braved herself to say, "Can we be friends now, sir?"

Sasuke lifted an eyebrow. Friends. What an odd term to describe their relationship. He rather thought of her as an amiable little girl who had been misled into his lair, a victim with him as the villain. He felt sorry for the girl, but not to the extent of feeling guilty. "Miss Hyuuga, of all things, I don't think the words _friends_ would appropriately define the relationship between me and you." He resumed taking his previous position, leaning against the door post.

Hinata frowned, but nodded. "True, I can't really think of you as a friend either, sir." She looked down at her fiddling hands. "Actually, I've always compared you to my father; you're kind of like him: quite distant, but actually kind when approached." Hinata tilted her head slightly. "So, maybe, I could consider you as an uncle?"

Sasuke held back a fit of laughter, making it sound like a snort. "An uncle?" He snickered. "Now, that's something new." Being described as kind was a rare feat, but being considered as an uncle… what was the word Nara used the other night? _Epic_.

Hinata nodded. "Uncle Uchiha. No, wait. Should it be Uncle Sasuke?"

Sasuke remained silent at the question. It felt as if it had been decades since someone called him by his given name. It even sounded weird to his own ears. "Call me whatever you like when it's just the two of us, but in front of others, please stick to the protocols, Miss Hyuuga," he muttered, making his way out of the room. "And by the way," he added, calling out over his shoulder, "you better get up now, or you'll be late for school."

Hinata blinked at that and glanced at her alarm clock.

Crap. It was past seven.

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: There you have it! Please review after reading… Expect more coming soon! (Well, not so soon, but relatively soon.) Review please, people! I've been getting tons of hits, but less than ten reviews per chapter? T.T Humor me…


	10. Chapter 9A

**Pre-note:** So, naturally, your question would be: "Where in the world did she go?" Well, I got a permanent job and moved to the capitol city, but fanfic-writing keeps me young at the heart. LOL. Sorry for the year-long delay.

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 9A – It's Complicated (Part I)**

o

* * *

Sasuke craned his neck, rubbing a spot at the back to get rid of the stiffness there. His schedule for the day had just ended—at three in the morning. He pulled off his glasses, sighing tiredly as he checked the contents of his briefcase before stepping down from the limousine.

"The next meeting begins at seven, sir," his blonde aide reminded him at the door of the car.

Sasuke nodded, acknowledging the information. He walked towards the residence, allowing the guard to pull the entrance door open for him. He greeted the guards with the slightest movement of his head. He was so tired he could barely open his eyes the moment he passed the threshold. Safe from any watching eye, he yawned out loud in the dimness of the residence's living room.

He still had a hand over his mouth when he opened up an eye to see Hyuuga Hinata standing at the door of her room, looking at him strangely.

He dropped his hand automatically, his façade tightening in alert. "You're still awake?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in question.

The girl shook her head. "I just woke up." She shrugged lightly. "I thought I heard something outside; it turned out to be you."

Sasuke replied with a mere sound from his throat that sounded like, "Hm." He tugged on the knot of his tie, loosening the loop slightly and undoing the top button of his shirt at the collar. He shrugged out of his suit and hung it carelessly on the back of a chair at the dining table. He felt so tempted to collapse on one of the other chairs and lay his head down for a moment, but he knew better—rather than dozing at the dining table, he could use a proper three-hour slumber on his white fluffy futon instead. He stifled another yawn.

She was still standing there, watching him move around the kitchen like a zombie.

Sasuke eyed her, crossly. He was annoyed that she was witnessing him this way—without composure, without the air of authority he usually held. He huffed. "Go back to sleep." He hadn't intended to bark at her, but it naturally came out in a harsh, irritated tone. He scratched the back of his head rather furiously.

But she smiled at him, her head poking ridiculously out from the tiny gap of her bedroom door and her fingers wrapped about the sides of the pane. "Yes, sir," she said. Then she added in a softer voice, "You should get rest as well, sir." She was still smiling idiotically at him. "Sweet dreams, sir."

"Sweet dreams, Hinata," he replied out of courtesy.

It was only after she had closed her door behind her quietly, that he realized that he had called her by her first name—_her_ name, not her _sur_name, not that infamous household name—unintentionally, but oddly, it didn't feel improper at all. It naturally popped in his mind and slipped through his lips as if he were accustomed to calling her that way. He stood by the dining table, puzzled at his own words.

Perhaps, he was just too tired, he thought, walking towards his own bedroom. After all, it was three in the morning.

* * *

Nara Shikamaru could have sworn he had barely shut his eyes for an hour when he heard the doorbell ring. _Continuously_. He inevitably did swear out loud, muttering spiteful words as he stumbled out of his bed, blindly grasping around for his alarm clock. He opened an eye and peeked at the clock face.

Six o'clock.

AM.

In the morning.

His blasphemous string of words continued, rather mentally than verbally this time. He reached out for his trousers, pulling them on hastily as the doorbell started ringing all over again. He didn't even bother putting on anything on top as he dragged his feet to the foyer of his cramped apartment studio. "Comin'," he mumbled out loud, though he was pretty sure the morning intruder wouldn't hear his drowsy voice anyways.

He didn't bother to check the CCTV screen to see who it was: he figured it was probably the paper boy, or probably the milk delivery. (Wait. Since when did he subscribe for milk?) He furiously rubbed his face with his palms, trying to remove to remnants of his half-sleep while unlatching the lock of the front door.

He turned the knob and yanked the door open just as the intruder went into a doorbell-frenzy again. "I'm here, I'm here," he exclaimed, blindly, before giving a glance at the uninvited guest. His expression immediately changed. "What're _you_ doing here?"

The female intruder brushed her way past him, carrying a fluffy bundle in her arms as she stepped into the foyer. "I left you a message last week. Didn't you get it?" she asked without giving a hint of a greeting. She didn't even seem uncomfortable with the way he was undressed; she merely took a good look at his figure then rolled her eyes, as if expecting the ridiculous state of his morning fashion. She settled down on the front steps, taking off her shoes and letting down the bundle in her arms.

The bundle unwound itself, revealing a toddler, wrapped in a thick jacket and a woolly hat. The kid smiled up at him, eagerly.

"Whoa, you've grown a lot, sport," he grinned back at the kid, ruffling through the kid's unruly brown hair. "How old are you now?"

The kid raised a hand up and spread out all the fingers. "Konohamaru is five!" the kid replied. Then the kid wiggled his eyebrows in curiosity. "How old are you, Dad?"

Shika squatted down to level the kid—his kid. "Dad is…," he purposely took a moment, pretending to count his own fingers before finally lifting a two then an eight. "Twenty-eight."

The kid laughed. "You're younger than Mommy! Mommy is twenty-nine!" He pointed at the lady, who had been watching their interaction with uninterested eyes.

Shika gradually turned to look up at the woman. He let their son wander about the room, busy with his own exuberance to notice the change of the atmosphere. Slowly, Shika straightened up. He got a good glance at the lady's outfit—a tight-fitting trench coat over a blouse and a pencil skirt; her blonde hair bound up tight into a bun—and figured. "You're heading to work." It was intended to be a question, but since the answer was so obvious, the statement fell flat.

"I'm heading to China," she replied, confirming his suspicions. She had always been an ambitious person; an opportunity coming from the world's largest developing business district was something she couldn't miss. Sighing deeply, she took out several items from her traveling bag and set the out onto the table. "This is his formula; he usually drinks his milk before going to bed. His clothes are in this bag. So is his toothbrush. Remember, he's allergic to freshwater fish and clams. His bedtime is eight."

"Whoa." Shika held out his palms in front of himself in defense. "Wait a moment. Why all the sudden?"

There was a pause then a frown. She tilted her head slightly. "You didn't get my message, did you?"

"What message?" asked Shika, thoroughly confused, glancing back and forth between the stuff on his kitchen table and the woman.

"I sent you a text message last week," she explained, rather exasperatedly. "I told you I was going to China and needed you to look after Kon for a week."

Shika groaned, running a hand through his uncombed hair. "I get tons of messages every day; I must've scrolled through." His hand scratched the side of his cheek as he felt the lack of sleep kicking in again. He yawned. "I can't look after him. I've got work."

"Well, so have I," she snapped back at him. She folded her arms, angrily. "Look. I've been working _and_ taking care of him for two whole years. Why can't you do the same for just one week, Shika?"

Shika shifted, reluctantly. He glanced at the kid, who had turned curious towards the conversation, then looked back at the mother. "What am I supposed to do with him while I work?" It was a rather dumb question, but it was the most crucial one too.

"Day care, hire a baby-sitter, preschool," the lady muttered, offering random suggestions to him. She sighed. "Just one week, Shika, one week."

Shika groaned. He raised a hand to scratch the back of neck, his unwillingness obviously showing.

The lady snorted. She had her eyes on Shika's raised hand, on a particular finger. "Funny how you still wear that ring when you don't even give a damn about the only thing we have in common right now," she mentioned in a whisper. Her voice was dripping with lethal venom. "You're such a living irony."

Shika followed her gaze to his own left hand. He lowered the hand as he stared at the single gold band wrapped around his fourth finger. "You know it's not like that," he replied in a low voice. He looked up at the woman who was supposedly his wife.

The woman, in response, raised a finger. "Then one week, Shika. Please." There. She said the magic word. "One week."

Shika hesitated, glancing down at their wedding ring as he pondered on the options. He could bring the kid to the office and let him play with the guards, or perhaps even persuade Naruto into looking after him. But still, the office wasn't a place for toddlers and he knew the office wouldn't provide a proper environment for kids of such age. He looked up at the lady again.

She pressed her palms together in a pleading position, lowering her head just slightly to emphasize the gesture. "Just one week." The way she looked at him nearly broke his heart.

What she could do to him with the slightest hint of tears in her eyes was scary. He sighed. "Alright," he said, tossing his arms up in the air.

Her expression changed instantly. She gave him her signature smile: a suppressed grin, somehow crooked to the right, with her eyes twinkling in satisfied relief. "Thanks," she said, sincerely.

Then she surprised him by stepping forward and leaning towards him, before cupping one side of his cheek and landing a light brush of her lips on the other side. She tapped his cheek lightly as if he were a watch dog and she was saying, "Good job!" to him. The brief contact excited him—and annoyed the hell out of him, at the same time.

She didn't give him any time to react any further. She turned around and picked up her bag as she checked her watch. "Well, I should get going. I have a flight to catch."

Shika merely stood there, blinking in mild confusion. His hand absentmindedly reached for the spot where she touched him. He rubbed the spot oddly, his mind not really registering what just happened.

"Well, see you then." She surprised him again by suddenly excusing herself. She called out to their son, saying her farewells and affectionately giving the little kid a tight hug. She straightened up, giving her jacket a light brushing with her hand then headed towards the front door.

Shika blinked again. He rushed forward, suddenly feeling obliged to see her off.

She was bending down, adjusting her heels into the back of her shoes. Had she gotten slimmer? Shika frowned as he watched her put on her shoes. Her figure seemed pretty much the same as he remembered, but her wrists, he noticed, were just slightly thinner than they used to be. And there were shadows under her eyes, he noticed—something he had never seen on her before.

Shika folded his arms, leaning his head and shoulder onto the wall, as the lady stood up straight again.

"I'll pick Kon up on Tuesday," she informed him curtly, turning to reach for the knob.

But he beat her to it. He stretched out forward, his fingers turning the knob before she could even locate it. He held the door open for her—his bare torso somewhat looming over her as he glanced at her.

It was her turn to blink. The intensity in his eyes made her coil inside. She looked away, swallowing rather visibly.

He lowered his face; close enough for him to whisper into her ear, but not so intimately as to allow them to touch.

Hesitantly, she threw him a questioning glance.

"Take care," he murmured in a low voice.

She bit her bottom lip.

He backed away from her, allowing her to step outside, but not before adding, in an endearing way that only he alone managed to do to her name, "Tem."

She shivered. Not because it was cold outside—indeed, it was rather freezing and it was still very early in the morning—but this chill came from inside of her, causing her to pull the lapels of her coats tighter together as she nodded stiffly. "You, too," she managed to say, pulling away from him completely. "Take good care of Kon for me."

Then she was gone.

He probably stood there at the doorway for more than a minute, clutching onto the wooden panel as he watched her walk down the dimmed hallway and finally disappear into one of the elevators. The moment she vanished out of his sight, he sighed. He glanced over his shoulders, looking at interior of his rundown studio. He spotted Kon, waiting eagerly for breakfast at the kitchen table.

Shika sighed. Suddenly, he wished he could have gone to sleep earlier last night. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: Well, for ShikaIno shippers, sorry to let you guys down—I'm a ShikaTem sucker. Read and review, everyone! Thanks for sticking to this humble fanfic of mine!


	11. Chapter 9B

**Pre-note:** I'm back! (Cue synchronized gasps from abandoned readers.) So, perhaps, before you start reading this chapter, you might want to refresh your memory by reading the previous chapters over again. (Luckily, my chapters are relatively short.) It _has _been more than a year, after all. Happy reading!

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, and light profanities

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 9B – It's Complicated (Part II)**

o

* * *

The past several days had proven to be physically and mentally draining for the Prime Minister. As a follow-up to the automotive industry discussion that emerged during the Asia Pacific Union gala dinner, he handed out the necessary instructions to the Ministry of Industries about changing the priority markets. Though these new promising markets weren't as profitable as if they sold the products to the North American continent, they would at least provide a good fall back for the mean time. Beside the industrial conversations, the PM also handled the education problems during the few weeks, since he had put this issue as a main point in his agenda. He was meeting with the MEXT on regular basis these days, ordering for changes in public school curriculums and discussing plans for a salary raise for state-employed teachers, accompanied by his Chief of Staff. Technically, the plans were still pretty vague, but the chances were high.

And then, there were talks about the budget plans that were due by the end of the year. To stabilize the economy, the previous PM had approved a bail-out of several billions of currency money and not all of that, thought Sasuke, went to use. Was it really necessary to buy a new fleet ship at times like these? Sasuke had given the report a frown.

During those days of preparing early reports, Sasuke barely went back to the Residence at all. His schedule ran from six in the morning to eleven in the evening, sometimes even till past midnight, not including the casual follow-up chats he had with his personal aides and staff, so he often opted to just stay in his office, stretching his limbs on the sofa set and dozing off for a few hours before going back to work.

His Chief of Staff, Nara Shikamaru, also suffered the same fate, but wasn't as fortunate. His cubicle didn't provide sofa sets, so sometimes after midnight, he would just fall asleep in his rotating chair or he would search for a spare bench by the vending machine to straighten his legs.

Then again, sleeping in the Office was convenient for the two: less time was wasted; they could stay up till the wee hours discussing various topics, live on hot coffee and calorie bars served by the vending machine, and get their work done faster.

Sasuke adapted pretty quickly to the poor lifestyle—despite constant bickering from the PA, Uzumaki, who kept on trying to rearrange his schedule—but his subordinate took his time. Nara was often seen yawning during their chats, and Sasuke would once in a while ask why.

"Nothing really," Nara answered, at the question. "I just feel like yawning," he said, with a light shrug, one evening while they were sorting out folders of proposals from a range of ministries.

Sasuke nodded at the reply. Well, it was not strange for Nara to appear sleepy—he always had been the droopy-eye type of person, Sasuke remembered, but it made Sasuke feel bad.

"It's just… family matters," Nara added, when the PM seemed to be unconvinced by his answer.

This made Sasuke nod, understandingly. From what the PM knew, Nara came from a prominent pharmaceutical family that had expected him to inherit the family's company. Apparently, the genius Nara decided not to pursue his education in medicine; he did not even want anything to do with drugs, illness, and all sorts, so when he announced that he would take up law at a prestigious undergraduate school, his father literally disowned him. This had led to the mutual friendship the PM and the genius shared during high school: they both did not have family—at least, not the type of family that could actually be called family.

"Your father's bugging you again?" Sasuke asked, not really wanting to butt into another's family problem, but couldn't help to ask. He heard that the old man's health was failing lately and had regretted his past actions to some degree. Perhaps they were on the verge of reconciliation.

The Nara shrugged reluctantly, obviously not in the mood to converse about the topic.

Sasuke let the subject drop, but couldn't find any other theme to talk about. Silence reigned for a while.

Then a shrill beeping sound filled the room.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow.

Nara had jumped in surprise, and immediately fished for something in his pocket: a cell phone. He cringed at the number that appeared on the tiny outer screen. He gave the PM an apologetic nod of the head, a gesture that was returned with a nonchalant wave, and flipped the phone open. Instead of the courteous greeting he usually gave, Nara cringed painfully as he greeted the other side, "Yes, hello?"

Sasuke's eyebrows threatened to disappear into the line of his hair. A pained Nara was usual, but this Nara was rather desperate.

"I'm terribly sorry," Nara was saying after a short pause. "I'm afraid I won't be able to." He certainly was rejecting an offer from whoever was calling him. There were short pauses here and there in the phone conversation, and Sasuke could only hear the tone of the person on the other end: it sounded pretty angered. "I do, but I don't have time. I barely go home at all these days." Nara was insisting pretty hard. "Well, I'm terribly sorry, then, but there's nothing I can do tonight."

This was odd, thought Sasuke. Sure, the Nara was famous for being a lazy-ass, so it was not rare for him to turn down a request. But it was also uncharacteristic for him to actually _insist_ on turning down a request, since, well, usually Nara would be just too lazy to insist on anything at all.

"Well, tell him I'm sorry, but I can't come tonight," Nara said, raising his voice one note.

Sasuke blinked.

The Chief of Staff then noticed that he was still in audience with the PM, and halted the phone conversation to excuse himself from the room. "Sorry, this is a troublesome phone call," he muttered in apology to the PM, as he strode out from the office. His words of denials towards the caller were repeated over and over again even as his voice began to trail down the halls.

That was sure odd.

Sasuke sighed and stretched out his arms while he was waiting for the Chief of Staff to come back. He stared at the folders on the short coffee table. They were pretty much in order: the rejected proposals bound in red, while the accepted ones were wrapped in blue. There were also several blue folders that had notes scribbled on them: these were accepted proposals under certain circumstances and they were piled in a different stack. That was pretty much the work of the day, Sasuke thought, glancing at the clock. It was late, but not yet past midnight.

He considered going back to the Residence.

Plus, he had run out of spare shirts and suits that he kept in the office, so he might as well renew his stock.

Sasuke was dwelling over this notion when Nara Shikamaru came back into the office. He didn't look so well, sighing heavily as he settled back onto the sofa set. He played with the flip of his cell phone for a moment before stuffing it into his pocket again.

Sasuke made up his mind. "Let's call it a day." He rose to his feet and declared, "I'm going back to the Residence tonight."

Nara blinked. If the PM was going back to the Residence, there was no reason for him to stay at the Office either, though going back home was not something he was completely looking forward to do. But he nodded anyways. "I suppose I'll go home as well."

The look on Shika's face when he mentioned the word _home_ lingered in Sasuke's mind throughout the ride back to the Residence. It was a painful expression, as if home had always been the man's most fearful nightmare, but there was something in the midst of that hurt, resembling longing or… Sasuke frowned. Well, he wasn't a psychologist, and reading people's expression was not his forte, so he let the thought drop eventually.

But it was still nagging in the back of his mind as he entered the front doors of the Residence.

The first thing he noticed when he walked in, was that Chiyo-baa was wiping the dishes dry behind the kitchen counter. Sasuke gave the old lady a smirk, instead of a proper greeting.

"Finally back?" the old lady greeted him in a casual manner as well.

Sasuke nodded, then noticed a quite large bundle of white on one of the chairs by the dining table. At first, he thought it was a pile of laundry, but when the bundle shifted as he passed by, he realized it was actually Miss Hyuuga, wrapped in her double-bed-sized comforter. Her head poked out of the bundle as she greeted the PM lightly.

"Welcome home, sir."

Sasuke froze his mouth just in time to prevent himself from gaping. "What in the world are you doing there, Miss Hyuuga?" he asked, eyeing at the bundle that took up a wide spot at the table. "In that, at this time?" He glanced at a nearby clock to confirm that it was well past a student's bedtime curfew.

The girl frowned slightly and seemed to protest, but held back. Her shoulders were slumped a bit as her gaze fell. Then she shook her head. "Nothing, sir," she replied with a feeble attempt at a smile. "I was just accompanying Chiyo-baachan."

It was Sasuke's turn to frown. "Well, go on to bed now. You're going to end up waking up late at this rate."

Miss Hyuuga seemed reluctant, but obeyed anyways. She only turned to say, "Good night, Chiyo-baachan." She paused, and added, "Good night, sir," in a smaller voice.

Her greetings were responded by a cheerful, "Sweet dreams," from the old lady and a curt nod from the PM. She staggered to her room, dragging her covers behind her.

"What?" Sasuke blurted at Chiyo-baa once the girl was out of shot.

This time, it was Chiyo-baa who was frowning. And Sasuke definitely did not like when the old lady had that look on her face: in his younger days, it meant that he was grounded for at least a week. "You tactless fool," the housekeeper hissed, spraying dishwater at the PM with the flick of her finger.

Sasuke jumped away from the kitchen counter. "That's filthy, Chiyo-baa!" he protested, avoiding the sudden attack from the old lady.

"You have so little thought about other people's feelings that I find it a wonder that you can take care of the whole nation," Chiyo-baa mumbled, turning back to the dishes. "Those party members who chose you to be their leader must be senseless, brainless, heartless people!"

"What? What is this all about?" Sasuke stuttered, rather flabbergasted at his housekeeper's sudden outburst. He set his briefcase down on the dining table and pulled out a chair to sit down.

"That girl was waiting for you, you insolent fool," Chiyo-baa continued. She was rubbing a ceramic plate so hard to the extent that it was threatened to break. "She waits for you every night, you moron. And when you don't come home, she ends up sleeping in the living room accompanied by the television. And when you do finally come home, all you can say is 'go to sleep'? Honestly, sir, I thought I raised you better than that."

Sasuke reminded himself that Chiyo-baa would be the only person in the universe that could get away by calling him a fool and a moron in one string of words. "Well, how was I supposed to know?" he shot back at the sharp words. "All I know is that I come home well past eleven and I find her still up. It's only natural to send her to sleep. She's still a student." He paused. "I'm rather disappointed in you as well, Chiyo-baa. You know better than to let a student stay up till this hour."

Chiyo-baa slapped down a hand towel, walked around the kitchen counter to settle down in a chair across from the PM by the dining table. "She might be a student," she said slowly, emphasizing every single word with a stern tone, "but she is also a young woman." She tapped a nail against the hard wood of the table, pointing at the PM. He back away from the accusing finger. "Do you, young man, have any idea of how she thinks of you?"

Sasuke didn't like the finger. He flinched as he thought about a brief conversation he had with the Hyuuga days ago. "As an uncle?"

"Exactly!" the old lady nearly exclaimed, causing Sasuke to jump in his seat. "She looks up to you, you idiot. There's no father here for her, so you're taking that role now. It's only normal for her to want to know you better, to want you to know her better. She expects things from you, sir; she expects you to praise her for things she's done right, and she'll feel upset if you scold her when she's done wrong. She wants to be the first to greet you when you come home, and she's curious about things you do at work…" Chiyo-baa paused. She could go on forever about this. She squinted. "Don't you remember how you felt when you were little, sir?"

The man in front of her looked away. His eyes were blank when he answered, "No."

Sadness dawned on Chiyo-baa's face. She knew the topic of childhood would not get a good response from her protégé. His younger days were filled with harsh realities; it was not a surprise if he chose not to remember the past. Even the happy moments only felt bitter to him now. Chiyo-baa sighed. "Well then this is your chance. Relive the times that you missed out. She's under your care now."

Sasuke kept his face turned away. He knew the girl was under his care, damn it. Everyone was telling him that. It was not that he'd been completely heartless to her; there were times when he could actually relate his feelings to the girl's, such as during the Asia Pacific Union dinner night, and he found her rather… cute. (That definitely was not a commonly used term in his dictionary, he thought.) But, then, there were those times when he just couldn't get what the girl was thinking of, and her actions just seemed to be totally irrational to him. The way she fidgeted around him, the way she blushed too often in front of him, her verbal stutters… and he definitely wouldn't stay up all night wrapped in a blanket, waiting for someone else to come. Those little gestures annoyed him, but at the same time, they were what made her recognizable.

Chiyo-baa noticed the tumultuous thoughts going through the PM's mind and decided that it was time to end the talk. "Just go to bed now," she suddenly said.

Sasuke raised his head in surprise. It was as if the old lady was trying to get rid of him. Then he paused for brief second, realizing what he was thinking of. The Hyuuga must have felt the same when he used the similar words against her.

Chiyo-baa stood up and rearranged the chair she had been sitting in. She was about to leave the kitchen area when she heard his voice call her.

"Then what should I do?" Sasuke asked. "It's not like I want to stay at the Office every night, but I've got work to do. At the same time, I don't want people staying up waiting for me."

Chiyo-baa blinked. Well, well. This was a nice surprise. "You know, sir, there is a form of technology called the telephone. You can communicate vice versa from relative far distances through this device. It was invented by Alexander Graham Bell. Or you could opt for a more advanced version, the cellular phone." She only stopped after receiving a glare from the PM.

Who then stifled a chuckle.

"Just give her a call if you plan to stay the night over at the Office. Then you won't have to worry about making her wait all night."

Worry? Was that what he felt about the girl? Was he worried?

Silence reigned for a moment.

Then he merely said, "I'll think about it."

* * *

Konohamaru looked up at his father's face and immediately saw the dismay there. The kid's face fell. The change in his expression was so drastic that even a person as reluctant as Shikamaru didn't have the heart to turn away. Sighing, the older Nara picked up the boy and patted him lightly on the head.

"We wouldn't mind just looking after him during the day," the lady was saying, "but to leave him here for days... it isn't right, Shika."

The lady, Shika mentally noted, was his mother—Konohamaru's patriarchal grandmother. Going back to the Nara compound had made him swallow the last ounce of self-pride he had, but it was the only option. He figured it was the only place he could let Kon stay, without having to worry about his well being. His parents would definitely not let the child starve, and as much as his father hated him, the head Nara did not despise his only grandson. In fact, Kon's grandparents pretty much doted on the kid—something that confounded Shika to no end.

But even so, after three days with Kon, the grandparents had finally said enough was enough.

The child clung to Shika's lapels throughout the ride back to his run-down apartment. It was past midnight, nearly one in the morning. A child should be well asleep at this hour, not being tossed about from one house to another. Shika rubbed his palm against his forehead in frustration.

Damn, that Tem, Shika cursed inwardly. Of all weeks in a year, she just _had _to choose this week to go to China.

"Dad?"

Shika glanced down at the wad of spiky, brown hair. "Yes, son?"

"You can take Kon to work," Kon said matter-of-factly to Shika. "Mom takes Kon to her office when teacher's on a holiday."

Shika raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound like a good idea.

"Kon's a good boy," Kon continued, proudly pointing at himself.

Shika smiled back at the kid, weakly. What was this? Shika thought, staring at Kon. A five-year-old offering a solution to him, a full grown-up? There was his son, trying his best not to be a burden to the adults surrounding him. Children weren't supposed to be a part of the problems adults caused. And wasn't this ironic? Parents were supposed to support their children to grow into better people, not the other way around. Shika placed a hand on Kon's head and ruffled through the boy's hair. If this boy turned into a screwed grown man, then Shika had no one else to blame but his own self.

As the cab took a final turn around the curb, Shika nodded. "Yes, son, you are an awesome person."

* * *

It was nine PM, the next evening, and it had been two hours since Hinata had finished gobbling down her dinner. She was staring blankly at her notebook with a pencil in her hand. She initially meant to recheck the answers she wrote earlier to the math problems given by her teacher, but she stopped halfway to glance at the clock and then lost her interest in the homework.

He probably was not going to come home tonight.

Not that she was hoping for him to come home, she quickly added a mental note to that thought, but since she usually scanned over her homework while waiting for him, doing it this time felt rather useless.

_Go on to bed_, he had said. He was angry at her, disappointed at her, and she could tell by the tone of his voice. It had been past her usual bedtime, but she had not mind to stay up since she found lots of odd activities to spend the spare time. The PM must have thought of it in a different way. Well, she was, after all, only a teenager and she did have to go to school in the morning; it was only normal for him to scold her off like that, Hinata thought.

Her shoulders feel into a slump.

As her hands shut her notebook close, she wondered why she had decided to stay up for him in the first place. It was intimate to greet someone home, but she did not think of it that way. It was just that she had gotten too used to his sarcastic greetings in the morning. True, the greetings were never standard, but at least one had ended up quite pleasant and memorable to Hinata.

She wanted to talk to him again.

She wanted to have a proper conversation with him, perhaps about her prospects of becoming a businesswoman, or about his work; little things that could just lead to small talk. And since their morning talks were always cut short by the early rush, she decided that it would only be possible to wait for him to come home in the evenings if she wanted a decent chat.

But, apparently he did not like that.

Hinata sighed.

Chiyo-baa looked up when she heard the heaving breathing. She had been accompanying the young lady for the past hour by arranging the next day's breakfast ingredients into small plastic containers when she saw the girl stand up and walk over to where she was. "Tired already, Miss?" Chiyo-baa asked, gently. "It's still quite early." Which was true if it were to be compared with the recent bedtime the Hyuuga had adopted.

Hinata shrugged. "There's nothing else to do."

Chiyo-baa instantly knew that the lack of activity was not the cause; the cause of the little miss' reluctance was more of the lack of purpose, since before, even if there was nothing to do, Hinata had always been able to find something interesting enough to keep herself awake.

Chiyo-baa cursed at the PM, inwardly. She was so sure that he would consider calling tonight, but he had not and now Chiyo-baa was rather losing her faith in that man. How shallow, how insensitive men can be, Chiyo-baa noted.

Hinata helped Chiyo-baa stack the containers neatly and tucked them in the refrigerator. The housekeeper frowned at this, saying that Hinata shouldn't be doing the housework, but the younger one just shook her head and continued to give the elder assistance.

Then the phone rang.

The bell was quite shrilly, and it made Hinata drop a couple of containers of green vegetables that she had been carrying over to the refrigerator. She bent down to pick up the small boxes; luckily the contents did not spill and when she glanced up again, Chiyo-baa was speaking on the phone.

"The Prime Minister's residence. Who am I speaking to, please?"

Hinata wondered who the caller would be, since it was quite late for just anyone to be calling and if it were important business, the caller should have had more sense to contact the Office instead of the Residence. Hinata was still thinking about this as she tugged the fridge door open and placed the containers into the lowest shelf. Then she heard a hearty chuckle coming from Chiyo-baa.

"I thought you wouldn't call," the old lady was saying.

It must be one of Chiyo-baa's acquaintances then, Hinata thought, closing the fridge door. She walked back to the counter and picked up her math book that she left there and began to stride away when Chiyo-baa called out her name.

"Of course, she's here, you silly man," Chiyo-baa said into the mouthpiece before turning to Hinata, wagging a finger at her. "Come here, child," she called. "This call is for you."

Hinata's eyebrows raised in surprise as she took a step back to the kitchen counter where the phone was. Who would be calling her at this hour? Was it a Hyuuga family matter? It must be an emergency then, Hinata thought, but it could not be any bad news if Chiyo-baa had laughed earlier. Then again, the old lady had been expecting the person to call, so whoever could it be? Hinata knit her eyebrows even closer as she hesitantly spoke into the mouthpiece, asking in confusion, "Hello?"

"Miss Hyuuga."

It took her a while to recognize that voice that had become familiar to her lately. Her expression changed immediately. "Sir!" she greeted back, not sure whether to feel exasperated or happy about the call. Only one thing was for sure at the moment: she was surprised.

"Miss Hyuuga," the PM repeated. "I…," he then paused. It seemed that even the PM was capable of being lost at words. "I won't be going back to the Residence tonight," he finally said clearly into the speaker, in a rather rushed manner, "so please do not stay up waiting for me, and do sleep in your bedroom."

Hinata was speechless.

"I heard from Chiyo-baasan that you have developed a habit of sleeping in the living room lately, Miss Hyuuga," the PM continued. "I'd rather not have my efforts in changing my private study into your bedroom go to waste."

"I-I…," Hinata stuttered. She blinked. What was she supposed to say? "Of course, sir," she ended up saying, rather numbly. She blinked again. She was speaking to him, on the phone. And he had called her.

"Good," was his reply.

There was a pause.

It seemed like that was all the PM had to say, but he was having difficulties in finding a way to end the awkward conversation.

Then there was a sigh. "It's just that, Miss Hyuuga," he suddenly explained, "I already have so much on my mind right now. Please don't force me to add you to my worry list."

Hinata snorted at this. Was this his twisted-man-pride way of saying he actually _was _worried? Hinata thought of the PM briefly, wondering that if he could not come back to the Residence that night, he must be awfully busy. "You should take care of yourself too, sir," she said, thinking that the PM probably got less sleep hours than she usually did. It was no wonder that he had fallen sick last week.

All she got as a reply was a short, "Hmph."

A smile appeared on Hinata's face. The reply suited his character very much. It was clear and haughty, but also very nonchalant at the same time. She could actually imagine how the PM looked while saying the one-syllable grunt. Hinata was completely grinning as she mentioned lightly, "Thank you for calling, sir."

There was no reply.

Hinata tilted her head, unsure if the PM was still there, but decided to end the call with proper words. "Good night then, sir," she said, not certain whether her last greeting was heard or not, but she just shrugged inwardly and thought that it did not matter much even if it went unheard. "Sweet dreams."

But just then, as she began to lower the mouthpiece from her ear, she heard him say in return, "Sweet dreams, Hinata," and she could not help but break into a smile again.

* * *

"Ladies, congratulations on finally passing the biology exams."

Both Hinata and Tenten looked up at the teacher then exchanged glances. Iruka purposely heading towards their desk couldn't mean anything good. Hinata quirked her eyebrows, a facial expression mirrored by Tenten. They hurriedly turned to busy themselves by stuffing their bags with textbooks.

"What did you do this time?" Tenten mouthed at Hinata.

Hinata's eyes grew wide. "Nothing!" she whispered back.

Iruka stopped exactly in front of their seats and folded his arms. "I believe you two haven't handed in your future-major form sheets."

Hinata clapped a hand over her mouth, covering a gasp. She had completely forgot about the blank form sheets Iruka had handed out weeks ago. The whole ruckus going on with the Prime Minister had been her priority for the past weeks, not to mention, she had moved to the Residence, so the sheet of paper had likely been left at the Hyuuga manor.

Tenten, on the other hand, pulled out the form from her bag and gave it to the teacher. "Sorry, sir, it simply slipped my mind."

Iruka glanced at the paper. "Performing arts, Miss Tenten? That suits you well." He paused as Tenten beamed. Iruka turned to Hinata. "Miss Hyuuga?"

Hinata snapped her head up. "Yes, sir! I, um, haven't filled it out yet." Her voice wavered towards the end of the sentence. She winced.

Iruka raised an eyebrow. "That's not good, Miss Hyuuga." Iruka tucked Tenten's paper into a folder he had been carrying around. "If you hand it in too late, we won't have time to write any recommendations for you."

"Yes, sir." Hinata hung her head low.

"I expect it from you by the end of the week, Miss Hyuuga."

"Yes, sir."

Iruka strode away from the desk to dismiss the class. Hinata sighed loudly. She would have to drop by the Hyuuga manor either today or tomorrow.

Tenten swung the long sling of her bag around her shoulders while stealing glances at Hinata. "That's not like you to forget things. You're, usually, you know, more attentive when it comes to things like these."

Hinata shrugged. "It's just that so much happened."

"True." Tenten stood up and led them out of the classroom. She grinned, her steps bouncing lightly against the marble floor. "So, how is that prime minister of yours?"

"He's not mine," Hinata replied, tugging the straps of her bag. She trotted slowly behind Tenten.

"Well, he is _your _fiance," Tenten pointed out.

"If you put it that way." Hinata pressed her lips together.

Tenten grinned again. "Isn't it strange? I mean, we're still in high school. And he's, like, what? Thirty?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Hinata mumbled.

Tenten suddenly halted her steps, causing Hinata to bump into her back. Tenten whipped around, nearly knocking Hinata off her feet. "Say! When are you two getting married?"

"I don't know."

Tenten continued her monologue without waiting for Hinata's reply. "When you get married, I can be your bridesmaid, and you would wear a wedding dress in his favorite color. What is his favorite color?" Tenten only paused to take a swift breath. "And the decorations should be in _your _favorite color. Then the cake should be three tiers high. Oh! And there should be wine! What's his favorite wine?" Before Hinata could even shake her head, Tenten went on. "Flowers! The bouquet! Oh, there's so much to arrange for your wedding!"

Hinata laughed. "If there'll be wedding, anyways."

Tenten pulled back, slightly frowning. "What do you mean by that?"

Hinata tilted her head. She couldn't just mention the arrangement she had with the Prime Minister. "Well," Hinata began, twirling her hand in explanation, "I'm still young. There's a lot of possibilities that might happen. So, nothing's really concrete between the PM and I."

"But really, you guys _are _in a relationship, right?"

Hinata cringed inwardly. "We-ell..."

"Don't tell me you haven't even kissed yet."

"Well..."

"Oh, my God! Hinata!" Tenten shrieked, exasperatedly, so loudly that Hinata jumped. "How can you have not kissed yet? You even live together! You two are so odd!" Tenten huffed then regained her composure. "I mean, I think I've kissed nearly all the guys I like. Oh, for goodness' sake, I've even made out with Neji once!"

"What!" Hinata blurted.

Tenten snorted haughtily. "Well, that cousin of yours _is _kind of hot. So, yeah, I sort of ambushed him..."

"Oh, please, I don't want to hear any more of this," Hinata laughed, playfully covering her ears. Really, this was a shocking revelation. To think her air-headed friend and her ever stoic cousin had ever hooked up was rather... surely, with all these odd relationships going on, the world must be coming to an end. Hinata chuckled, shaking her head.

"But why are we straying from the main topic?" Tenten steered Hinata back to the main point. "So, you've never kissed him? The PM, I mean, not Neji." Hinata shrugged at that. "Do you even talk to each other? Do you even see each other? Or does he, like, just stash you aside?"

"Of course, we see each other." Hinata rolled her eyes incredulously. Well, the PM hadn't been at the Residence lately, but they did literally see each other every now and then. "We're just, you know," Hinata raised her shoulders slightly, "a bit more passive when it comes to that kind of relationship."

"I don't understand how you can stand it." Tenten straightened her back. "If I had a fiance, whether or not I like him, I'd definitely be curious about him. I'd interrogate him personally and privately. I'd want to know everything about him. I'd probably even kiss him, just to know whether or not he's a good kisser."

Hinata smiled at that, shaking her head slightly.

Tenten sighed. "Neji is definitely a good kisser. A hot one."

Hinata poked her forefingers into her ears and looked up at the sky. "God help us."

Both Tenten and Hinata burst into laughter.

But by the time Hinata arrived at the Hyuuga Manor, she had her curiosity spiked. She _was _curious. About the Prime Minister, about his background, about his past, about his childhood. She was particularly curious about the bad blood between him and his brother. It was the cause of this whole arrangement anyways. Then her curiosity regarding the trivial things Tenten had mentioned: his favorite color, his favorite wine; did he like the roses in red or white? Or did he prefer lilies? Or maybe he didn't like flowers at all? (He was a man, after all, Hinata pondered.) Did his entire work outfit wardrobe consist of indigo blue? Was _that_his favorite color?

Was this kind of information up on Wikipedia? Perhaps, she could Google it.

Then her thoughts took another turn.

Was _he _curious about _her_?

Was this kind of information about _her_up on Wikipedia?

Hinata fetched the sheet of paper she was looking for and shoved it into her bag. She looked around her room for a brief moment. Nothing much had changed since she left. The floor was clean and she found no dust on her table. Her father must have instructed the maids to continue cleaning it up, even if she didn't live there anymore. Sighing, Hinata stepped out from the room and closed the door behind her. She turned to leave.

Only to bump into Neji.

Which prompted her to slowly flash a wide grin at that cousin of hers.

Annoyed, Neji glared back at her. "What?" He paused and added, "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," Hinata replied, without dropping her grin. She headed to the front door. Then just before reaching the foyer, she turned around and faced the dumbfounded Neji. "You know, next time you see Tenten, why don't you tell her I said hi?"

"What? What do you mean? I don't—," Neji halted mid-sentence. Hinata's smirk made him re-think his words. Then it hit him. His face fell instantly. He wasn't the type to blush, but his already pale face grew even paler, if that was even possible.

Hinata's grin was of pure victory.

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: As per title describes, the relationships will get even more complicated! Will Sasuke and Hinata manage to get to know each other better? Can Shikamaru make it till the end of the week with Kon? And what exactly went on between Tenten and Neji? Please review!


	12. Chapter 9C

**Pre-note:** I constantly keep track of how many hits I get, how many visitors I have, and—last, but not least—how many reviews I get. (I know, I'm a very vain person.) Thank you for leaving your reviews! Sometimes, I come upon interesting suggestions and questions that spike my imagination, and end up forming a part of the plot. Happy reading!

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, and light profanities

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 9C – It's Complicated (Part III)**

o

* * *

"But these numbers are insane! We've already agreed to focus on education; we have the support of the Councilors, and we can't afford having our budget there cut because the military suddenly decides to buy a flock of jets!"

Haruno Sakura let out a deep breath, tapping the tip of her right shoe lightly against the carpet underneath the coffee table. She glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time since the Prime Minister had begun his phone call with the Minister of Defense. It has been past half an hour, she noted duly, and she was getting tired of listening to the conversation. She tilted her head sideways, throwing a look at the PM and indicating her watch.

Sasuke took the hint. This negotiation was going nowhere, at least for the moment. He was going to have to resume the talk tomorrow. "Look," he said, leaning closer to the phone, "why don't we meet in the morning? Maybe we could make several arrangements, instead."

The voice on the other side begrudgingly agreed with the suggestion.

"Well, good evening to you, too, sir." Sasuke ended the call. Then he let out a low growl in frustration. Bending over his desk, he smacked its wooden surface hard with his fist. He snarled. "Damn it!"

Sakura stood up from the sofa, leaving her folders on the coffee table, and walked over to the desk. "Maybe we should take a break first, sir." When the PM refused to glance up, she continued, straightly, "We've been on about this subject since the afternoon. I'm starving to death."

Sasuke sighed and straightened up. "You can go, Haruno. I'll be fine." He had arrange the papers for tomorrow's impromptu meeting with his minister, not to mention the other folders on his desk, still waiting to be reviewed. "I might need you in an hour or so, though." He needed Haruno to contact the finance department to know the exact numbers for the ideal budget. After that, he might need Uzumaki to check whether he actually had some spare time in the morning for the meeting.

God, he was so screwed.

Sasuke took a look at the clock. It was eight in the evening. The night was still relatively early, but he never felt this worn out before.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get you anything, sir?" Sakura asked as she headed towards the exit.

Sasuke shook his head. "No, thanks. I…," he paused and wondered. "Say, Haruno, where is Nara? Haven't seen him around much today." The truth was that Sasuke only saw the Chief of Staff once in the morning (very early in the morning—around the time Sasuke arrived) and caught another glimpse of him during lunch. Which was an odd occasion, since the Nara would normally stick to him like the plague.

Sakura shrugged. "He seemed rather occupied when I saw him earlier this afternoon. Seems like he's got something on his hands."

Sasuke pressed his lips together and nodded, dismissing Sakura politely. The woman silently closed the doors behind her after she left.

Once he was alone, Sasuke stared blankly at the papers lying in front of him. He scratched his head lightly, out of no purpose. Well, he was going to have to figure this one out all by himself. He huffed lightly and set the problematic folder on the right side of his desk. He pulled open the drawer of his desk, taking out a pad of writing paper. Reaching over to the edge of the table, he plucked his Parker out from its holder. Sasuke skimmed through the papers, underlining several details he considered questionable then copying them onto his notepad. Such as: was it necessary to buy the jets from that country? Surely, there was another alternative available? A cheaper, yet reliable alternative? Sasuke gave an option as well; India, he noted, had recently bought fighter jets from France and Russia with a relatively leaner price—it was a bargain really, they managed to get one extra plane on their planned budget. Not that it had to be from France or Russia, but if there were better offers, why not? If anything, Sasuke scrawled against the paper, why buy new jets at all? The air force has a decent amount of jets, purchased less than a decade ago.

The tip of Sasuke's pen began to form a large blob of blue on the paper as he pondered.

Noticing the unintentional stain, Sasuke lifted his pen and reluctantly put it back into its holder. He stared at his notes, rereading the points he had made. Was it really possible to make the minister change his mind with these points? Sasuke leaned back into his leather chair and folded his arms together.

Just as he began to slip into meditation mode, the double doors ten yards away from his desk swung open with a bang as they hit the walls.

* * *

What seemed to be a wad of honey colored hair burst into the office with amazing speed and momentum, then literally hurled Sasuke's way, bouncing off the desk, before finally coming to a halt in the middle of the vast room. The wad of hair turned out to be a boy, probably five or six years old, only as tall as Sasuke's mid-thigh. The boy wore a pair of goggles around his neck and had a red scarf (or was it an imitation of Superman's red sheet?) tied around him. The boy seemed to be as surprised as Sasuke to find himself in the office.

Sasuke had jolted up in an upright position to peer down at the boy, who was staring back at him with huge brown eyes.

"Who are you?" asked Sasuke instantly, all courtesy forgotten. It was, after all, a child.

The boy frowned. "My mom told me not to talk to strangers."

"Right." Sasuke put his hand on his hips as he stood up to walk around the desk, over to the boy, who now seemed frightened by the man's height. "But, son, you are in my office, so I have the right to ask who you are and what purpose you have here."

The boy nearly whimpered, but eventually relented. "My name is Konohamaru. I'm playing hide-and-seek."

"With whom?" asked Sasuke curtly, as he kept his posture, brooding over the boy. It didn't occur to his mind that someone actually mistook the Prime Minister's office as a playground.

"My dad," the boy answered, clearly quivering now.

"And _who_ is your dad?" asked Sasuke again, with the same previous tone. Sasuke bent over with his hands on his hips and his eyes peering at the kid, interrogatively.

"He works here," said the boy, not giving the full answer. "Mom and Dad takes turn watching me, 'cause they have to work. Today, I'm with my dad."

"Obviously, your dad needs to be informed that these quarters are off limits to public," Sasuke muttered through gritted teeth. He did not have a single clue where his secret service were supposed to be and how a fleeing rascal could pass their eye and slip into his office without warning.

The boy was about to let out a squeal of horror when another figure appeared at the doorway.

Sasuke had prepared to scold the person who he thought was the boy's parent, but no—to Sasuke's surprise—it turned out to be Hyuuga Hinata, still in her school uniform. She was glaring at him. Sasuke straightened up.

"What are you doing to that child?" she demanded. Hinata marched forward and snatched Konohamaru away from the menacing Prime Minister. The boy seemed to be relieved and hid happily behind Hinata's folds of skirt.

"I was teaching him protocol of the office," Sasuke replied, nonchalantly, waving him hand carelessly in the air.

"You're scaring him to death," Hinata corrected. Then she turned to the child and squatted down to be at the child's eye level. "Where's your mommy?"

"At work." The child seemed to be more comfortable talk to Hinata than to Sasuke. He was clearly clinging onto Hinata's skirt.

"His dad's supposed to be an employee here, somewhere," Sasuke explained to the now cooing Hinata.

Hinata ignored Sasuke's comment and picked up the boy. The boy was light for his age, small and tiny, too. Hinata managed to carry the boy on her hip and said happily, "We'll find your dad."

"We?" asked Sasuke. "I believe I did not say I was volunteering."

"Who said anything about you?" snapped Hinata at the Prime Minister, who was immediately taken aback by the ominous maternal instinct emanating from Hinata. "By the term 'we', I meant 'the boy and I'. Right, honey?" she asked the boy. "My name is Hinata. What's your name?"

The boy mumbled his name once more, avoiding the Prime Minister's glare. Sasuke remained silent for a while, though his glare was still addressed at the infant minion. Letting out a resigned huff, he then turned to Hinata and asked, "What are you doing here?" Surely, she had not decided to merely to visit him out of the blue.

Hinata startled. She spun around with the boy still in her arms, to face the Prime Minister. "Oh, right," she began, just remembering her original purpose. She actually managed to blush, despite her recent bravado to rescue the boy. Stuttering just slightly, she showed him a wad of papers she had been carrying with her. "I-I finished writing my resume for you." She handed them to the PM with effort since both of her hands were busy with the boy.

Sasuke took the papers from her hand, and then weighed them. He stared downwards, suddenly feeling uneasy. "I, uh, haven't finished mine," he said, blinking. He had not expected this, at least not this early—it had only been less than a week since their compromise. He had been engaged with state matters since; he hadn't even thought of this extra task until now.

Hinata managed to shrug. "I figured," she said, quietly. "You're head of state, after all." Her gaze softened. She understood him well.

"I… I'm sorry." He found himself apologizing voluntarily. He nearly bit his own lips out of guilt as he glanced sideways, nervously. Why was he nervous? Why was he always nervous when it came to talking with this young lady? "I-I," he stuttered, "I'll finish mine as soon as possible." He made it a mental promise to himself.

Hinata nodded.

Then a pregnant silence fell among them; even the boy was silent—he only glanced back and forth between Sasuke and Hinata. Hinata remained in her position, wondering what to do then, since her main purpose had been achieved. Sasuke started to play with the metal staples that held the papers together, unconsciously, as his eyes fell onto the Hyuuga heiress'. Those eyes that were wandering about were unreadable—they've always been so, being all silver.

Sasuke only realized that he had been gazing at the girl once there was a head poking through the doorway saying, "Has anyone seen a five-year-old boy in here?"

The head, belonging to Nara Shikamaru, the chief of staff, glanced sideways before he finally recognized the boy in Hinata's arms.

Sasuke blinked.

"There you are," said Shikamaru, stepping out from around the doorway towards the boy in Hinata's hands. "How many times have I told you not to go this way? The hallways and this office are off limits to hiding," he scolded the boy from afar. "I'm going to tell you off to your mom if you keep up the bad behavior."

Sasuke furrowed his eyebrows, not really digesting the whole situation. "Shika, who is—?"

The Prime Minister's question was cut short by the boy, who jumped out of Hinata hold, over to the chief of staff. The boy exclaimed happily, "Daddy!"

Sasuke's mouth hung open.

Shikamaru was now scooping up the kid, half-scolding, half-laughing at the child.

"You have a kid?" Sasuke nearly blurted out.

Shikamaru turned to give the Prime Minister attention. "I am a married man with one son." His façade changed immediately into the serious, emotionless person Sasuke knew him as. "But my wife and I separated a couple years ago, since our jobs took up too much of our time. So, now, we take turns taking care of Konohamaru. He's mostly with her, but she's a reporter, and she's got this project to do away from the mainland, so now he's stuck with me." Shika paused. "Or rather, I'm stuck with him." Shaking his head lightly, Shika muttered, "It's complicated."

Sasuke gaped at his chief of staff. "How come I never knew that you were a divorced man with children?"

"Mom and Daddy aren't divorced," Konohamaru shot at the Prime Minister. The last word seemed to be a touchy subject the child, for his eyes glistened just by hearing it. Sasuke frowned. The kid then buried his face into his father's shoulder.

"Yes, we aren't divorced," Shika repeated, adding a silent, "_yet_," behind his son's back. "And it's not 'children'," Shika corrected. "I only have one child. So far."

Sasuke folded his arms, calculating. He remembered the phone call the other night, wondering if the 'family matters' Shika had mentioned then was about _this_ family rather than the Nara clan. This wasn't prying into someone else's business, but this was actually necessary: did Shika register the whole family when he signed to assist the PM? Or else, the family might not receive security advantages and whatnots. "We should talk about this some other time," Sasuke said; his tone warning Shika that this 'other time' would 'soon and imminent'.

Shika bowed his head, immediately understanding what the PM meant. "Yes, sir." He gathered Kon and moved to excused himself from the office. "Meanwhile, we would hate to bother your _rendezvous_." He faked the heavy French accent, with an extravagant flair.

Sasuke raised a questioning brow.

Shika smirked and wiggled his own brow towards the only female in the room.

Only then did Sasuke remember Hinata was still standing there with them.

Shika led Konohamaru (who gave a friendly wave to Hinata, then a suspicious glare at Sasuke) out of the room, bowing politely and closing the double doors behind them.

And leaving Sasuke and Hinata alone in the room.

Together.

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: And that concludes chapter 9! Please look forward to the next chapter! Though, I have to admit, I think two parts per year is my limit… Please leave a review!


	13. Chapter 10A

**Pre-note:** I'm on a writing spree. And coincidentally, let's celebrate the 16,000th hit on this fanfic! Yay! The review:hit ratio is currently at 1:100. That means out of every 100 hit, I only get 1 review. Sob.

**Rated:** T, for political themes, sexual issues, and light profanities

**Standard disclaimer** applies on each and every chapter of this fan fiction series.

* * *

o

**Prime Minister: Uchiha Sasuke**

**Chapter 10A – Questions and Answers (Part I)**

o

* * *

The first thing that went through his mind was: he should get rid of this girl and get back to work. That would be a rational decision, and logically correct, too. It was getting late. He had things to do (and was quite eager to get those things off his hands as well) and she had her bedtime approaching. (And, of course, she had school tomorrow.) Not to mention, she was still in her school uniform, which meant she didn't stop by the Residence yet, likely driving Chiyo-baa into a panic mode. So, yes, sending her off seemed to be a perfectly sane solution.

"Why don't you have a seat?"

So, why, he pondered afterwards, _why in the world_ did he invite her to sit down? He should've known that letting her sit down would lead to small talk, a casual conversation, tête-à-tête, which could go on forever, which meant more of his time spent, which meant her sticking around.

"A drink, Miss Hyuuga?"

No, of course, not; that shake of her head was rather expected. The widening of her eyes was rather a surprise, but then, as Sasuke looked down at the decanter in his hand, he was after all, offering her vodka. (Haruno, he noted, would have a fit over this. _"Offering an underage student alcohol? Are you trying to commit a political suicide?"_ He could imagine the pink-haired lady scream in his face.) Sasuke poured a finger of the deep-colored liquid for himself and settled on a couch across from the girl. He swirled the contents of his glass before looking up at her.

_Timid_; he judged by the slouched shoulders and the entwined fingers, and the very tightly clamped-together knees. _Shy_; he noticed her avert her eyes to anywhere but him. _Quiet_; she hadn't spoke a word since their company abandoned them. And he could tick much more characteristics of hers off his checklist: none were great, none were bound to make her stand out; none, he noted, put her in a shining light. Nothing, he thought, was really attractive about this girl.

So, Sasuke took a sip of his vodka, his arm stretched out along the back of the couch and his legs crossed, why did he invite her to sit down? Why did he find himself in a very content position, with her sitting there in front of him? There was this air about her, that made him comfortable—no, it made him feel secure. Perhaps, the fact that she seemed so obedient, so submissive, that he felt as if he could practice his prowess without having her revolt. Her physical appearance activated his conscience as a male, a possessive being, pleased to have something so relenting to be owned.

At that, he paused.

But this girl, he reminded himself, was the girl who ran away from her family; this was the girl who managed to force down a bowl of mysterious ingredients (something he still hadn't figured out) down his throat; the same girl who, just minutes ago, reprimanded him for barking at a child. She had potential to be reckoned with, the strong conviction hid within those silver eyes, but she kept it underneath her hesitant façade. It amazed him to find such contradiction within a single person.

_Curious_.

She made him curious. And, perhaps, he thought as he took another sip from his glass, that curiosity was what drove him to invite her for a nice chat.

"So," Sasuke placed his glass down on the coffee table that separated them and picked up the résumé set beside it. "Let me see what you have here."

Hinata instantly looked up at him. She waved her hand aside just slightly. "There isn't much, really. I figured you wouldn't want to waste your time on trivial things, so I just put in the main points."

Sasuke raised his eyebrows. "Sometimes, it's the trivial stuff that matters."

Hinata blushed. "I-I could add more to the list if you like."

_Obedient_, Sasuke confirmed. He wiped her offer aside with the flick of his wrist. "No, this would be fine. I'll read this first, then if I have questions, I'll ask."

Hinata nodded.

Then there was silence.

Sasuke posed as if he were reading the contents of the paper, but he was actually considering whether this was the right time to dismiss her. Not that he wanted her gone; no, in fact, having company—_quiet_ company—was nice. But, it was awkward, and her purpose in coming to his office had been made. And, well, it seemed as if they couldn't come up with a proper conversation topic.

So, she surprised him when she suddenly spoke out, "You know, sir, I've been wondering."

"Yes, Miss Hyuuga?" He placed the résumé sheet on his lap and waited for her to continue. Hinata didn't look at him directly, but rather at the spot to his side, which made him look at that spot, too. After confirming there was nothing there, Sasuke glanced back at the girl. He twitched an eyebrow.

"About your brother," she said slowly, briefly staring at the ceiling, before suddenly turning to face him straight in the eye. "Do you hate him?"

Sasuke froze. "No, Miss Hyuuga," he managed to answer, though his tongue felt numb. "I _loathe_ him."

"Oh." The girl's lips formed a small 'o'.

Boredom suddenly took over him. "Why the question, Miss Hyuuga? Were you inspired while writing your own history?"

"No, I…," she began, but then decided to change the course of her words. Shaking her head slightly, she chuckled—a pleasant soft sound to his ear. "Just curious," she said quietly, "just curious."

"Funny, you say that. I was just thinking the same of you."

Sasuke watched as the girl frowned—an inconspicuous downward turn at the right corner of her lips—as if she wondered what he could be curious about, but she didn't confront him about it. Instead, she blinked and took a deep breath. Then she huffed. And then she pouted.

"Spit it out, Miss Hyuuga," Sasuke scolded her, impatiently. "You're starting to look like a constipated octopus, huffing and puffing like that."

Hinata frowned again at that. _Do octopi suffer constipation?_ (Do octopi even _have_ a digestive system? For all she knew, octopi were not of the vertebrate class of the animal kingdom. But then again, her biology knowledge was extremely limited.) But! Hinata snapped to attention, suddenly remembering what she wanted to ask the Prime Minister. "I was curious," she began, earning an oddly contorted look from the PM, "w-why do you hate your brother?"

The change in his look was awfully slow that it was painful to watch. Hinata's gaze immediately dropped to her lap.

"My, my." The PM leaned back onto the sofa, slapping the résumé down onto the coffee table. He spread his arms wide along the length of the back of the sofa and crossed his left leg on his right knee. "What drugs are you on, Miss Hyuuga? This sudden spree of audacity you're showing makes me wonder whether you really are the Miss Hyuuga I know of."

"I-it's just that," Hinata bit her bottom lip, "I thought it would be essential to know the history between you and your brother, sir." Nervously, she added, "I figured strong feelings, such as hatred, must have a cause. They don't just happen."

Sasuke shut his eyes and sighed. "How would someone like you understand my hatred, Miss Hyuuga?" He raised a hand and ticked off each finger, one by one. "One: you don't have an older brother like mine. Two: you're a first child, Miss Hyuuga. You don't know how it feels to have an older sibling control every aspect of your life. Three: you're not an Uchiha. You don't know the history of rivalry within the family. Four: you still have a parent; just one, yes, but that's adequate enough to be grateful of—which you should be. Five: you're _rich_. You have everything a person of your age could ask for."

Hinata swallowed. The PM's words were sharp and harsh—it embarrassed her so much, it pained her—but they rung true. Her blush was no longer out of shyness, but out of humiliation, being put in a position where she wasn't worthy of him—and his story. "I'm sorry."

"No." The PM denied her apology. "It's not your fault. There's no reason for you to be sorry for me."

"But I am sorry." Hinata looked at him, straight in the eye. "I'm sorry that the past has left such bitterness in such a good man."

_Intimidating_. It surprised him to come up with that word to describe her, but those eyes, all pale and silver, haunted him. The way she searched him with those eyes had him hypnotized. This wasn't asking; it wasn't even accusing. This, he noted his position across from her and the table between them, was a technique of questioning that would put the CIA to shame. This was an interrogation.

And unconsciously, he found himself speaking.

"Our parents had just died and a month later, my brother decided to move abroad. He said he would come back to take me with him. Have you ever experienced something like that, Miss Hyuuga? Someone promises, but in the end, never fulfills it. At first, you wait. Then you hope. Then, you become impatient. Then, you hate. It's an inevitable chronological process.

"I was young, too young to understand. My brother was the only family I had left. I admired him—no, more likely: _idolized_, _worshipped_. Betrayal during childhood leaves a deep scar. I've come to realize how conceited this world is at a young age." Huffing, Sasuke picked up his glass of vodka. "Maybe that's why politics suits me so well. It's such a conceited matter." He chugged gown the remaining liquid in his glass.

Hinata stared at her hands. She always thought she had it hard on her—her father's demands, her sister's constant whining, her cousin's enviable achievements—but as she listened to the man in front if her, she came to understand that she had taken her life for granted. Things she always considered as a bother were really things to be grateful of. She imagined if, right at that moment, she were stripped of everything she knew—her family, her friends, her school, her lifestyle—she would probably not make it through. But this man, she glanced at the PM, paved his own path, straight to the top.

"But it must hurt," Hinata said, quietly, thinking of his childhood. "To have so little, but to hate so much."

"It becomes a drive," Sasuke admitted. "To earn more, to own more. Hate becomes the need to belittle others; a desire, a passion to be at the very pinnacle." Sasuke dotted a high point in the air with his index finger, to emphasize his last word.

Not wanting him to stop speaking (there was something soothing about the baritone voice, despite the obvious animosity that seeped through the sentences), Hinata asked, "Now that you are at the top, do you still have room to hate him?"

He shot a questioning look at her.

"Is it something that you constantly think of, sir? The fact that you hate him?" Hinata tilted her head slightly. "I can imagine that could be a very painful mindset to start the day."

"It's not something that comes to mind constantly." Sasuke fingered the rim of his empty glass. "But when he comes into the conversation, it becomes hatred. When I think of him—thankfully, it doesn't happen often—it hurts and I hate it." He kept the look on his face bored. "I hate his way of thinking that he knows what's best for me. I hate that, now, he thinks he can come back and mess with my life again. I hate that he left me alone decades ago."

Hinata slipped out of her shoes and tucked her feet underneath herself, and curled around the arm of the sofa. "But do you hate _him_? Him, as in your _brother_?"

Sasuke glanced at Hinata, not understanding.

She raised her shoulders. "It's just that… the way you describe him reminds me of the way I think of my father. He's an oppressive man, you see. His way of handling things can be rather dictatorial. But I," Hinata looked up at him, "I don't think I'd ever come to hate him. In fact, I love him very much."

Sasuke stared at his glass. "He left me when I was barely out of elementary school. Alone. On my own. To fend the world by myself. Why wouldn't I hate him? Why _shouldn't_ I hate him?"

"I don't know," Hinata rested her head down on the arm of the sofa. "Perhaps, you just want his attention. As I crave for my father's." She looked down at her hands in her lap, again. "Perhaps, you just miss him."

Sasuke didn't reply to that.

He glanced at the tip of his shoes. Did he miss Itachi? The idea was laughable. Why would he miss that sore excuse of a brother of his? It wasn't as if he was still the boy he used to be, the boy abandoned. It wasn't as if they were still children, playing tag and running around in shorts. It wasn't as if he wanted more days of that and bickering over shared toys and candy. He remembered his brother's constant teasing and laughter, and a very memorable flick of a finger against his forehead every time he whined.

So, no, Sasuke did not miss Itachi.

Did he?

"Dearly so."

Sasuke sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. He shook his head at the thoughts. He couldn't get all sentimental over nostalgic reminiscence. Not when Miss Hyuuga was nearby.

He glanced up.

She was asleep.

He took a peek at her curled figure and noticed the light breathing. He frowned. She was going to make a habit out of falling asleep in his office.

Not that he minded, he thought, shrugging out of his suit. He beat the jacket lightly before leaning over and draping it over her shoulders.

She shifted just slightly in her sleep.

Sasuke smiled, a tiny tug at the side of his lips.

No, he didn't mind at all.

* * *

o

* * *

a/n: I wanted to _not_ chop this chapter into parts, but just as I concluded this part, I thought, "Ah, I should add something more, since the topic of the chapter is so broad!" But then I realized I'd set this chapter to only be this long, and so, yeah, you'll have to bear with part 10B, and maybe 10C. Dunno. Thanks for reading! Please, please, please, _please_ review!


End file.
